


Who Holds The Devil

by Katarinea



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Depression, F/F, F/M, Gaslighting, Gen, In Which The Author Vigorously Tap Dances on Canon's Grave, M/M, Mental Abuse, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Sexual Tension, act accordingly, also In Which Shepard Thinks Everyone Is Hot, it's an everyone fic, really don't come in lookin for canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 186,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarinea/pseuds/Katarinea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the strongest can only fight for so long. And Nora Shepard thought she was done fighting.</p>
<p>Somebody else didn't think so. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Starts at the beginning of ME2. Pays wild disregard to much of canon, though probably not enough. Paragon Fem!Shep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this in off moments. I have nobody to scream about Mass Effect at. That means I have no beta, so this is probably spectacularly awful. I apologize.
> 
> I wanted to play with canon, and see how depression could affect Shepard. That turned into this. 
> 
> SHEPARD'S DEATH SCENE IS RIGHT AT THE START so if you're sensitive, might want to skip that. I'm doing my best not to do play-by-play of missions unless they're drastically changed from canon. I know how old that gets. Most missions will probably be covered in short snippets. 
> 
> My writing style is also very peculiar. More apologies.

Nora could have made it. She’s jumped farther, survived worse.

She didn’t really want to. Her hand slams into the button. Joker reaches for her, eyes wide, screaming her name — the doors shut. Energy arcs through the ship, completely and utterly destroying it. The energy misses her, but she can hear the hiss of her environmental suit failing. The darkness of space envelops her. Ice creeps over her senses. Reflex makes her grab at her neck as breath leaves.

Flailing legs send her spinning through the vacuum. Light peeking over the edge of the planet is her last sight.

Her last thought, _Finally. I get to rest._

\- - -

Everyone Shepard hand-picked made it out.

Everyone but _fucking_ Shepard herself. Anderson can’t help his reaction. “Shit!” There goes the peace offering from the asari councilor — shattered by his hand. “You’re sure? There’s no mistakes?”

Alenko nods, head low. “We haven’t been able to find the Normandy to search for survivors. It’s been a week, though. Adrift in space, with no supplies, no weapons…”

The human councilor collapses into his chair. “The first human Spectre… gone.” His head sinks into his hands. “Send me… send me any personal data you have. We’ll have a memorial, even if we can’t…”

“Understood, sir.”

\- - -

Garrus clenches his gun nervously. It doesn’t feel right to show up to Shepard’s memorial in armor, but it also doesn’t feel right to come unarmed.

It doesn’t feel right, or real, to be at Shepard’s memorial.

There’s a modest crowd. Not enough, considering all that Shepard did, if you ask him. Councilor Anderson takes the stage — a piece of jury-rigged scaffolding in front of the embassy. “We are here today to honor the memory of Commander Nora Shepard, the first human Spectre, savior of the Citadel. Her body has not been recovered, but we will not forget her, even without it.” He clears his throat. “I had the honor of being the Commander’s captain for a time. She was a bright woman. Her ability eclipsed that of others, and even if it hadn’t, she never let anything stand in her way.”

He steps aside. Liara steps up. The asari is well-spoken, a good choice, even if she hadn’t had… something with Shepard. “I served beside Nora Shepard. Her heart was larger than any galaxy. She cared for every member of her crew. When we hurt, she hurt, and when she hurt, we hurt. I do not know a single person on the Normandy that wouldn’t have given their life instead of hers. But we are not allowed bargains in this game of life. So I speak of her to you. Remember her kindness. Remember her truth. Remember her courage. Honor her by acting to honor her memory.”

Others speak. He doesn’t know any of them. Near the end, Kaidan comes up and says a few words before departing. His sullen eyes tell Garrus everything he needs to know. The human man had often watched their commander with what seemed to be human desire in his eyes. Even after Liara had kissed Nora on the way out of the ship once, he’d watched. Now the man will never have his chance.

Time passes. The little crowd disperses, leaving behind a stone obelisk, set in front of the human offices in the embassy. He lingers, even after the others leave. Finally, when the artificial lights dim, he approaches it.

“I believe human custom says I should leave something to honor your memory, Shepard…” he whispers to the stony peak. No answer. “I’m… I’m sorry.” His relic of a pistol, the only thing left from his time in the turian military, falls from his hand into the pile of flowers and holos.

\- - -

Wrex can’t come to the memorial. He’s already on Tuchanka, kicking skulls in.

Instead, he vows to honor Shepard as best he can: by stirring shit up in her memory. He remembers how she snarled at enemies she couldn’t possibly defeat, and talked down others. When the clans push back, he shoves.

He’s not going to be out-kroganed by a damn human.

\- - -

Kaidan marches straight up to Anderson when he gets the time, after the memorial. “I want to train to be a Spectre,” he barks, putting every bit of his heart into the request.

Anderson looks at him. And looks at him. Kaidan can’t help shivering. “Why?” the councilor finally asks. He leans forward, resting his chin on interlocked hands.

“It’s the right thing, sir. I can’t say I’m the best person to carry on Shepard’s legacy. I mean, hell, the fact she even has a legacy — that was all her. But I’ll do my best to be the best I can, sir.” He doesn’t bite his lip. But he wants to.

Anderson stares at him a minute longer before letting his chair swivel away. “I’ll see what the other councilors think. In the meanwhile, distinguish yourself within the Alliance. Go find a bunch of slavers to murder, save a planet or two. The usual.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Kaidan says with a salute.

\- - -

Shadows fall around Liara as she waits in the corridors of Ilium. A meeting with someone unspecified, somewhere few venture —

It’s not the right thing to do, but Nora deserves better than such an ignominious death.

\- - -

Tali can’t believe it. It’s been a month. She still can’t believe it.

“Ouch!” she hisses, bringing her fingers to her mouth.

“What is it, Tali?” her father murmurs from across the comm.

“I’m distracted. I burnt myself again,” she sighs. He entirely understands her need to tinker while she speaks with him. How could he not?

“I see. You’re taking that commander’s death very hard, Tali,” he says, voice soothing. “Should I be worried?”

“Yes. No. Maybe.” She sighs again, the breath longer than usual. “She was wonderful, Father. I have never seen a human so worried about others. And now she’s just — gone. I would be dead, or worse, if it wasn’t for her. I certainly never would have finished my pilgrimage.”

“I know how you feel, my dear. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you would have not found a way out. But you have a chance now to become someone great without her shadow over you.” He smiles. “Breathe. You still live. If it bothers you so, perhaps you should make your own memorial?”

They talk for a little longer. But his suggestion, of making her own memorial, sticks within her head. After he hangs up, she rummages through her box of tinkering whatnots. Then she places a call.

Two days later, she has a new set of wrappings for her enviro-suit. They’re red and black, with chestnut-gold threads woven through. Shepard’s colors. And nobody ever comments on the tiny picture in the corner of her room when they visit, or the bits of strange rubbish strewn around it. They’re all things that make her think of Nora, though perhaps not… quite what one would expect.

\- - -

When she first comes to, they say she’s not ready, not lucid, her brain can’t handle it.

If she could speak, she’d tell them it wasn’t a matter of ability.

It’s a matter of wanting.

 

\- - -

 

Sirens. A voice. She awakes to general clamor. For a second, she’s back on the Normandy, when things were _good_ — but no. Her vision stabilizes. Her eyes flick about — lights, tables, medical equipment.

Person. “Who the hell are you?” she croaks, propping herself up on one arm and surveying this person. Slender, dark hair, white suit of armor emblazoned with a logo she can’t quite make out.

“Miranda Lawson. Cerberus operative, here to rescue you, Commander,” the woman replies, straightening from the console she’s bent over. “Good to see you have your mind.”

She turns. Shepard almost loses her breath. Because **damn**. The side profile had given her an idea, but Miranda is _hot_. Full breasts, fine features, and — “Wait. Cerberus?” she growls. Or she tries to growl. It ends up turning into a coughing fit.

Miranda sighs and crosses the room, rummaging in a storage unit. “Yes, Cerberus. You’re in a rogue Cerberus facility. We were only tipped off to their actions recently.” She pulls a bottle of water from the storage unit. “I see they didn’t even bother with proper hydration.”

Nora grabs the bottle and chugs half of it. “Rogue facility?” she croaks before drinking more.

“Yes. Apparently they… received your body… and immediately set about reviving you. It’s an amazing procedure, and I’d love their notes —” Miranda interrupts herself with a cough. “My apologies. I consider myself a scientist. It is a fascinating possibility.”

Nora rolls her eyes and stands. Her limbs are wobbly, but they function. As she hobbles around the room, Miranda’s omnitool dings. “I’ve scrubbed these terminals. Would you like to join me, Commander? I do have an extra pistol.” She turns, just slightly, and sees the pistol on offer. It’s a simple, sleek model, but unfamiliar.

“Do I really have a choice?” Nora sighs. As she hobbles over, her stride turns into something less hobble and more walk.

“Well, you do. It’s just that your choices are come with me, or remain here and die again when we blow this place.” Miranda’s smile is a little pained, but not enough. Nora takes the pistol. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of extra thermal clips,” Miranda murmurs, proffering a few red and black cylinders.

“Thermal whats?” Nora asks, eyes narrowing.

“Ah, yes. That would be… a recent development. It’s an easier way than firing and hoping you don’t overheat your gun.” She demonstrates how to put one in, clicking it in and out with ease. Nora copies, but mutters under her breath.

“We’re going to space, they have technology. We don’t need earth guns!” _Click-click._ “Sure as hell looks like an earth gun to me.”

Miranda’s eyes suddenly sharpen and she taps her ear. “My partner’s returning. He investigated the morgue while I attempted to wake you.”

“Morbid job,” Shepard replies. “Don’t worry too much about clips. Unless they really messed me up, I’m a biotic.”

“I knew you were a biotic, and you… appear to still have implants…” The dark-haired woman’s eyes move over her. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

“Enough chit-chat. Let’s move, if you don’t need anything else here,” Shepard half-orders. Miranda frowns, but falls in. The door slides open. “What kind of resistance are we looking at here?”

“Mostly security mechs. It seems many of the personnel have fled, although not all. I… took care of a few on my way in.” The long hallway stretches before them as they move out. It’s well-lit. Still too eerie. A half dozen doors line the walls, some stuck open. Most appear to be vacant lab facilities. Two are storage closets.

“Need anything from those labs?” Nora asks, jerking her head towards the doors.

“No. As soon as I gained access from one, all their data unlocked,” Miranda replies.

“Sloppy security. Let’s make a quick scan of the rooms. If past experience with Cerberus tells me anything, they probably had guns. And guns means… clips.” Shepard steps into the left room and waves Miranda into the one across the hall. They’re both small rooms, but one gives up two packs of medi-gel and the other a half-dozen thermal clips, along with a civilian style pistol.

“Bad workmanship,” Miranda sneers, popping the half-used clip from the pistol and tossing the gun.

“So what were they working on in there?” Nora asks. After pocketing a couple, she hands the other clips to Miranda.

“Mostly cybernetic upgrades.” Suddenly, she looks everywhere but straight at Nora. “I, er… your files give me reason to believe…” A pause. Nora raises an eyebrow. “It seems they gave you a rather large amount of very expensive upgrades,” she blurts. “Cybernetic eyes, skin and bone weaves for greater durability, improved biotic implants, and so on.”

Shepard doesn’t say anything for a minute. “I see. Makes sense. Surprised I don’t have an anti-Cerberus chip somewhere.” She pauses. “Or maybe I do. After all, I went along with you awfully easy. And you’re Cerberus.” She turns her gaze on Miranda. For some reason, the girl shivers.

“I don’t think you do. While I was waiting to see if you were… viable, I read some of your project’s notes. I saw nothing about control chips.” Miranda rolls her shoulders and nods to the last two doors. “Do you want to check these labs?”

“I make investigating a habit,” is Nora’s only reply. These labs are more non-descript than the last. All they turn up is a grenade and a real, live apple. Nora promptly chows down.

And when the doors open, she almost chokes. Four mechs whirl on them, guns raised. Immediately, they start spewing their usual spiel about standing down. Both Miranda and Shepard respond exactly the same: by hurling a fistful of biotic energy at the closest mech. Twin thud sounds echo through the chamber as two mechs slam against the walls. Before either remaining mech can get off a shot, the two women dive into cover behind the walls by the door.

\- - -

Miranda gets far too excited watching Shepard. Even with glowing light from not-yet-ready cybernetic implants, even with her body barely functional, she fights well. The woman slides out of cover. Half a dozen rounds find their place in one mech’s faceplate. While the other mech fires at Shepard as she slides back into cover, Miranda takes the opportunity to warp its armor and take it out with a single shot.

“Good work,” Nora murmurs, standing. “Check the bodies for clips.”

Indeed, they dropped a few. Miranda reloads and follows Shepard, who’s eying the locked door to her right. “Do you have a map?”

“Of this facility, no. I do have the floor plans of several others memorized, though, and they’re similar. That door should lead to the morgue.” She gestures ahead, to the open door framed by mech bodies. “That one should lead to a few more labs, and then to a common area, and from there, there _should_ be a route to the shuttle bay.”

Before Shepard can say a word, the door to their right hisses and unlocks. Both whirl, guns up. Miranda notices Nora’s flex. For a second, it seems useless. Then she sees the dark purple shimmer of a biotic barrier settling over the commander’s skin.

“Whoa, okay. That’s a hell of a way to greet your partner, Lawson,” Jacob says, walking out, hands up.

“Jacob. You didn’t raise me on comms. I could have shot you,” she reprimands. Shepard rolls her eyes and holsters her pistols. “This is Jacob Taylor, Commander. He’s my partner in this mission.”

“Commander? Who the — _shit_.” It’s the first time Miranda’s ever seen Jacob truly speechless. “You’re Commander Goddamn Shepard!”

“Actually, my first name is Nora,” Shepard drawls, easy smile curling her lips. “Pleasure to meet you, Taylor.” She frowns at him for a moment before her face clears. “You used to serve under Izunami, didn’t you? I think you were on Eden Prime.”

Jacob blinks. “…that’s a little creepy,” he answers. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“I was on Eden Prime, remember?” she needles him. “I remember a surprising amount from that mission. Enough chit-chat. Let’s move.”

Miranda nods. She and Jacob fall in behind the commander, letting the renowned woman take point. “Anything interesting in the morgue?”

“Bodies. Don’t know what I was expecting. There was a locked door, led to another locked door. Seemed like that room was on this level. I didn’t have any luck hacking it.” He grins ruefully. “I tried too much. It threatened to blow me up.”

Shepard snorts from ahead as they enter another hallway of labs. “Been there, done that. I’m assuming you can’t just pour omnigel into the circuits and overload it anymore?”

“Hell no!” Jacob laughs. “They fixed that way back in the first couple months of 2184.”

Nora stops dead. “…would you — 2184?”

Jacob steps back, shoulders going up defensively. “Yeah. It’s been a year and a half since that update.”

“So it’s 2185?” Shepard asks, voice dangerously quiet.

“Yeah. Randa didn’t fill you in?” he asks.

“Not on that, no.” From here, Miranda can see Shepard’s jaw shifting and setting. Her anger’s not hard to discern. “Enough. One person to each lab. Find what you can.” Nora spins and steps into the first lab, doors shutting with a surprisingly hard _clk_.

Jacob just slides ahead, face full of Miranda’s least favorite expression — the “oh shit” one. She sighs and investigates the lab to her right.

\- - -

Jacob finds Shepard standing in the last lab, in front of a locked door. “Watch out with those circuits,” he warns.

“I’ve done this a couple of times,” she answers, not looking away from the display on her omnitool. “This is actually a lot easier to hack than they used to be.”

“…really? How do you know?” he asks, more than a little curious.

“Chasing Saren meant a lot of breaking and entering.” She exhales slowly. Her fingers dance over the omnitool’s display. “Where’s Lawson?”

“Right here,” comes Miranda’s voice from the door. “Anything interesting?”

“Not so far,” Nora replies. “And — there.” The door clicks open. A puff of… what _feels_ like refrigeration escapes as it slides open. “Well, that’s ominous,” she mutters. Nobody needs her warning to pull their guns as they step into the room.

Dark, cavernous and quiet, greets them. Few lights are on. The ones that are float over sleeping pods. Shepard signals them and creeps forward. “…ew,” is Jacob’s first reaction at the first pod. “The hell kind of experiments were going on here?”

A husk lies inside, eyes literally peeled and staring forward, even in cryogenic stasis. “The ones that need aborted,” Nora spits. The next pod has the skeleton of a human inside, covered in cybernetic parts. “I don’t even know what they were trying to accomplish.”

“They resurrected you, Commander. Perhaps they meant to move onto more… decayed subjects?” Miranda offers in a whisper.

“Disgusting,” Nora snarls. Pods three and four have geth bodies, their armor plating almost entirely gone. Pod five has malfunctioned. All that’s inside is a rotting body.

Pod six nearly kills Jacob. And if it affects him so, he knows it affects Nora far worse. “How the hell…?” she breathes, staring up at it. Inside, chest rising and falling in the slow breath of stasis, is Ashley Williams. She’s barely recognizable. Nearly half her face has been replaced by cybernetics. She wears little more than the Cerberus basic sparring clothing — a thin top and pants. The lack of sleeves means Jacob sees how half her left arm is cybernetic, and the rest has blue lines of circuitry running through it. Her entire body seems riddled with the eerie glow, visible even through the clothes.

“So this is the other program,” Miranda murmurs, staring up at the pod. “There was another top secret file I couldn’t entirely crack the encryption on. From what I read, this was their first hope to have a hero in the ranks of Cerberus. An admirable goal, if despicably executed.”

Jacob can’t help the frown. “Man, that ain’t right. Look at that. She gave her life to the Alliance, gave it up to save a whole lot of people, and these freaks tried to resurrect her?”

“Yes, despicable indeed. Let us leave her to her rest.” Miranda turns, ready to go. She’s clearly not expecting Nora’s reaction.

“You have five damn minutes to hack that control panel and get her out alive,” the commander snarls. Before he can react, Nora’s pistol rests between Miranda’s shoulderblades. “She dies, you die. I left her behind once. It’s not happening again.”

Miranda gulps. “Yes, ma’am.” She turns, slow and careful. _Tip tap tap_ , her fingers dance across the console.

 _Decompression beginning,_ a staid voice drones from the ceiling. _Please enter failsafe code._

“Failsafe?” Nora hisses, her gun pressing harder into Miranda’s skin.

“It’s — not something meant to kill her, it seems to be security protocols, I’m trying —”

_Security protocol engaged. Decompression 30% complete._

Nora swears, spitting enough swear words to impress Jacob. “Taylor! Weapon up!” she barks at him. Mechs emerge from a door in the back of the room, firing as soon as they enter line-of-sight. Before he even lines up a shot, purple-blue biotic energy flies past him. It feels different than Miranda’s fields usually do. He’s not wrong about that. The singularity collides with the doorframe and throws more than one mech off its feet. It’s not one of Miranda’s tactics. _Pop! Pop! Pop!_ Three shots. Three mechs lose functionality, shot straight through their processors.

Aim, fire, adjust. “How the hell did you get headshots when they’re floating around?” he asks as he guns down two more mechs.

“Just calculate the most likely trajectory of movements. They attempt to free themselves from the singularity as a primary course of action.” Poppoppop. The FENRIS staggers and falls. “From there, it’s simple to aim and adjust your firing angle.”

 _Decompression 75% complete,_ the voice drones again. _Please enter cryo-stasis exit code, followed by failsafe code._

“Miranda —” Nora starts. Biotic energy curls around her hands.

She doesn’t need to finish. “I can get one or the other, Commander, not both! It has to be the exit code or she dies!” Miranda snaps.

All the answer she gets is a snarl. Shepard beckons. One mech takes an easy trip to her, pulled straight through the air. Jacob blinks, wide-eyed, when the commander punches straight through the mech’s chest.

 _Cryo-stasis disengagement commencing. Secondary security activated._ From lower, the sound of great steps comes. “I’m going to assume that’s the security coming to kick our asses?” Jacob yells, diving behind the nearest pod to escape the FENRIS charging him.

“It can try,” Nora shouts back. One foot slams into the ground. Energy ripples outwards from her in a massive shockwave. Every mech except one stumbles. “Miranda! Give me that grenade!”

“Unnecessary!” Jacob roars, pulling a pin and launching his favorite kind of grenade towards the cluster of downed mechs. “Heads down!” Shepard dives behind the corpse of a FENRIS, the one attacking him barely seconds ago, and covers her ears just in time.

 _KRA-KOOOM!_ Every mech in that pile goes up in a fountain of flame, shrapnel flying wide. More than one piece almost impales Miranda, deflected only by a handy barrier.

_Cryo-stasis disengagement 50% complete. Please prepare neural mission brief, the voice drones._

“Neural mission brief? What the hell?” Nora growls as she stands, ready for another wave.

“I’m not sure, Commander, just —” Jacob loses track of what Miranda’s saying. He’s too busy being dumbstruck by the _huge damn mech_ lumbering toward them.

“Uh, Miranda? Commander?” he shrieks, voice embarrassingly high. Neither answers. “Comm — _holy fuck_!” He barely gets out of the way of the _fucking_ _rocket_. “You can argue later!”

Twin rockets of biotic energy sail past him, blowing huge holes in the mech. But not big enough. It staggers forward, raising its rocket arm. Jacob leans around his mech-body-pile cover and disengages the safety on his SMG, pouring as much figurative lead into the thing as he can. Behind him, he can hear both Nora and Miranda firing. Then he hears the click that means someone’s out of thermal clips. Seconds later Nora’s pistol flies past, wrapped in biotic energy, followed by a vigorous stream of swearing.

Then she rockets past him, her own body wrapped in a flicker of biotic energy as she charges the mech. _Dodge, dodge, **thump**!_ Her foot collides with the mech and sends it staggering. Before she can gain her balance, it swings at her. She goes flying. “Nora!” Miranda shouts. He doesn’t bother shouting, just sets his jaw and switches to his assault rifle.

Half a clip in, he hears a strange voice croak, “Down!” Strange voice or no, he’s been in enough firefights to obey. Down his head goes. And just in time. A rocket sails toward the mech, from a direction that’s definitely not Miranda.

“Good thing they packed me away with a weapon,” grumbles Ashley Williams as the mech moans a mechanical death rattle just before — **boOOOOOM**! Miranda stumbles. She barely keeps her feet. “The hell am I at?” Ashley demands, slinging the rocket launcher back over her back.

“Commander!” Jacob shouts, vaulting over the pile of electrical bodies.

“Comm — shit. Nora?” Ashley shouts, following him.

Nora’s already up, although amid intense grumbling. She staggers towards them, one hand to her head and the other mopping up a nosebleed. “Thank you, whoever got the number of that —” As she looks up, her words stop entirely. “Hi, Ash,” she whispers.

“I seem to remember something about you dying, Commander,” Ashley greets her. “Good to see it didn’t stick.”

Expressions flit across Nora’s face so fast Jacob can’t keep up. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Likewise, Chief,” Nora replies. “Lawson, Taylor, let’s move out. There don’t appear to be any other occupied pods in here.”

“Of course, Commander.”

\- - -

Nora can’t stop glancing back at Ashley. This entire thing feels like a dream. Is it? Ashley walks with the same stride she always used to, carries a rocket launcher with her old ease, and hacks safes better than she ever did before. Where the rocket launcher was kept in the cryo pod, she doesn't know. She's not about to ask.

After they enter the common area and discover no mechs, they move forward. They stay staggered, but this time they put Ashley on point. “Do you remember anything?” Nora asks, voice as quiet as she can make it.

“Blurry things, Skipper. Shooting, killing, a lot of it.” Ashley’s human jaw clenches. It’s the only way Nora could ever tell she was displeased with something. “Most of my orders came from assholes in Cerberus uniforms. You happen to know anything about that, _Lawson_?”

Very quietly, Miranda coughs. “I’m afraid I don’t, Officer Williams. This is a rogue facility. Jacob and I have been sent to… deal with it.”

“Just you two? Nobody else?” Ashley presses. “That sounds pretty suspicious.” She pauses, blinks, and adds, “By the way, there are roughly seventeen LOKI mechs in the next room and at least four FENRIS mechs.”

“What?” all three of the others screech in unison as the door opens. Instantly, fire pours through the doors. Swearing — some in several different languages — flies through the air as they dive for cover.

“Little more notice next time, Ash?” Nora shouts, popping out of cover long enough to hurl a shockwave of energy towards the mechs. “Jacob, blow it!”

“Aye!” he shouts, hurling a grenade and ducking back into cover. Ahead, Ashley grins at Nora from her cover — an overturned table — before popping up, heavy pistol in hand. Her shots land with deadly accuracy, incapacitating four mechs before she ducks to avoid the grenade blast.

It becomes a bit like a game. Miranda or Nora pops up from cover and throws out some kind of mass effect field. Jacob or Ashley, occasionally both, bounce out, guns ready. Inevitably, at least four mechs die each time. “How many of these are there?” Nora calls as she reloads. “Anyone?”

“Scanners show four more in the shuttle bay,” Ashley calls. “Also, I believe there is another large mech homing in on us.” More swearing, from everyone but Ashley. “I think I see a grenade launcher in the shuttle bay, though!”

“Cover me!” Nora shouts, flipping over her crate and charging towards the mechs. Shots richochet past her, off her barrier, and some even nearly find their targets. Here, in the thick of battle, she doesn’t have to think. _Charge. Punch._ A LOKI falls at her feet, crackling energy making the corpse twitch as she jumps over the body. From the door, she can see the grenade launcher — but the heavy mech’s not far off, either. Anger, dark and primal, fuels her legs as she sprints. The launcher’s at her feet — in her hands — the mech’s barely three meters off and charging.

“Run, Shepard!” Miranda’s voice comes. A singularity appears beneath the mech’s feet. It doesn’t do what it should thanks to the shielding and armor. But it stumbles. It throws off the firing algorithm. Nora doesn’t need extra encouragement to haul it. When she hits the doors, she spins, slamming her body up against the wall to deal with the recoil of the launcher.

“Skipper!” Ashley shouts. Nora pulls the trigger. The grenade sails through the air, just behind Ashley’s rocket —

_**KraaAAAAAKOOOOOOM!** _

It echoes off every hard surface in the next kilo. Or at least, Nora’s willing to bet on it. Shrapnel does, too, and so she ducks back into the room they’d funneled the mechs into and keys the door shut, breathing heavily.

“Well, that got the blood flowing,” Ashley murmurs. “Ready when you are.”

\- - -

Half a dozen people show up at the shuttle bay, all bloodied, beaten, and wearing clothing Miranda sees Shepard eying. It’s the common garb of those who make a business of infiltration. What, did the woman think they brought an entire ground troop?

Two shuttles is all they need. Shepard and Ashley sit next to each other, silent, as the shuttle takes off. When they’re a safe distance, Miranda taps the outside view camera. Behind them, Lazarus Station dies a fiery death. “We’re on our way to another Cerberus station. One far safer and less rebellious.” She pauses, but then continues on. “I told the leader of Cerberus, the Illusive Man —” Miranda starts.

Shepard holds up a hand. She pauses.

“I’m sure he wants to talk. But I need a few minutes to myself when we get there,” Nora says. Her brown eyes, now rimmed with cybernetic red, find Miranda’s. “I want a shower. I need to think. I’d like at least a ration bar. Please?”

Miranda nods. “You’ll be provided facilities.”

\- - -

Shepard, very pointedly, doesn’t look at the mirror until after her shower. Then she closes her eyes, prepares herself, and wipes the fog from the mirror.

Her own face stares back. It’s not noticeably different for the most part. Her eyes glow in the low light, just a bit. Her hair still falls to her hips, sleek and chestnut despite two years of neglect. She's not sure how that's possible. The square jaw, the lips she always lamented as “not enough” — still there. But her scar is gone. Her scar, the slash through her eyebrow she earned on Akuze! Instead, cracks litter her face, gleaming like sunspots.

After staring at herself, unable to believe anything, she finally whispers, “I thought I was done.” Her grip tightens on the edge of the sink. It’s not enough. Her knees still buckle.

She crumbles to the floor, a defeated wreck of a woman. “I thought I was done!” she screams at the ceiling. The bathroom’s soundproofed. Nobody hears. She’s glad. She doesn’t want comfort.

\- - -

Ashley lets the water run over her. She’s not really dirty. But it’s comforting. So far, everyone has treated her like a person. But she can see the implants beneath her skin, feel them itching, know she’s been used as a weapon. Faint memories dance at the back of her consciousness. _Blood, screaming, death — cerberus cerberus cerberus **serve**_

If she’d eaten anything, she’d vomit. But the little holes in her arms let her know why she can’t. Fed through tubes.

Deep breaths. Nora won’t let them. She won't. She won't.

\- - -

She steps into the room and meets this Illusive Man. Every word she speaks, she knows it’s futile. For all his apologies about the rogue cell, he’s not convincing enough. And she knows he has her. He knows it too. Stuffed full of Cerberus tech, without any secrets to show for it — she’s his weapon. The Alliance won’t take her back. Just before he disconnects the call, he smiles at her. It’s eerie.

Climbing the stairs takes more effort than it should. Her mind, not her body, is tired. Her hair rests against her back, the only familiar thing she can feel, but still an encumbrance. When she reaches the top, she calls out as she rounds the corner, “Miranda? Do you have any hair ties?”

Miranda looks up from where Ashley sits, a half-dozen cables plugged into her cybernetics. “I believe I do, yes. Would you like a run-down on Officer Williams?”

Nora breathes and steps forward, hands shaky. “Right. How is this — both of us — possible?”

“The nuke you set off on Virmire was Alliance-made. As a small, but subversive, failsafe, all Alliance nukes are equipped with homing technology of a sort. They will inflict less damage on human DNA than any other. Her body was largely intact,” Miranda explains. “Very singed, yes, quite injured, yes, but salvageable. Or so these files are telling me. It’s slow going trying to decrypt it all. It’s almost as if some parts are missing. I have less answers for you yourself, Commander.”

“I think I’m something like forty percent cybernetic now,” Ashley says. Nora notices — everything the woman’s said has been… surprisingly flavorless. “It’s not so bad.” Her cybernetic eye twitches. “Guess I’ll be even better in fights, right?”

Nora nods, eyes distant. “Both of us, it seems.” She turns away. “Let me take a nap. Then we’ll… we’ll be off to Freedom’s Progress.”

“Jacob will show you to temporary quarters, Commander.” Miranda turns away, working feverishly on something on the screen. Nora just sighs and follows Jacob.

 

 


	2. One Stays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she stays busy, it's not so bad.

  
Nora’s biotics ready themselves more quickly. It’s odd. They actually follow her line of sight instead of… doing whatever they want. That’s what she’s used to.

She doesn’t realize the true extent of the improvement until nearly halfway through the mission. A mech comes up behind her when she’s crouched behind a crate. It doesn’t realize where she is. So she reaches over the crate and drags it over with a biotically charged fist, ready to shoot it through the head.

Unnecessary. Her fist _crushes_ the thing’s neck.

Nora can’t help her jaw dropping.

\- - -

Miranda watches Nora fight, pleased. The implants and upgrades seem to be working well. Nora doesn’t fight with the same _joie de vivre_ Miranda saw in the videos, but that’s to be expected a little. After all, she did just come back from the dead.

As for Operative Williams… The soldier was a machine in battle before. Now she kills with the efficiency and ability of a highly trained assassin. Effortless sniper shots take down more than a few mechs, assault rifle fire fells dozens — it’s unbelievable.

Ashley notices her watching during battle and turns toward her after the fight is over. “Enjoying the view, Lawson?” she asks, her voice nearly a drone.

“Just marveling at your efficiency,” Miranda replies, doing her best to remain flippant beneath the odd stare.

“Yeah, you did a damn good job, didn’t you?” Ashley snarls. Then she turns around and picks off three more mechs without even scoping down her pistol.

Miranda doesn’t know what to think of the bitterness.

\- - -

Jacob hasn’t seen all the videos, but he’s seen a few. He knows both Shepard and Williams fight well.

But he’s not going to be outgunned by someone — or two someones — who just recently came back from the dead. He takes a little extra care with his shots. His grenades fly with unusual grace.

“You’re a good soldier, Taylor,” Williams murmurs as they move toward the strange sounds to investigate.

\- - -

Tali’s over this mission. Honestly. Wild mechs aren’t her favorite thing. Better than geth, yes, but there are lots of things better than geth. And then the door flies open. Of course her entire squad jumps up, guns ready. “Prazza! Stand down!” she orders, and turns to the intruders.

Not a single neuron fires for a minute. “Nora?” she gasps, entirely unwilling and willing to believe at the same time. And then, behind her — “ _Keelah_. Ashley?”

Prazza says something stupid. She shuts him down. “Hi, Tali,” Nora murmurs, stepping forward. Hesitantly, she opens her arms. “You changed your wrappings. And I’m assuming the quarian rave behind you means the geth data was okay for your pilgrimage?”

“You’re alive,” she breathes. “But how?” And then she glances behind her. Prazza still has his gun trained on Shepard. “Put your gun down, Prazza! This is Commander Shepard!” And then she steps forward, into Nora’s warm arms.

“Tali’zorah! She’s working for Cerberus!” he spits. “Would your precious Shepard do that?”

Before Tali can reply, Nora growls. “Precious Shepard is right here, and can answer questions. Thank you, Prazza, for sounding like an absolute asshole. It’s good to see you, Tali. But to answer your question, it’s less working for Cerberus and more ‘the Alliance would arrest me on sight’. They’re my only option right now. Long story. But long story short, since I’m here, they’ve asked me to look into this whole disappearing colony business.”

Behind Nora, Ashley hefts her rocket launcher. Tali peers over Nora’s shoulder and inspects her, as well as the other two. “I’m here because blowing things up is fun. And someone’s got to have Nora’s back." Ashley jerks a thumb towards the mystery people. "They’re here to protect Cerberus’s interests.”

Tali can’t do anything but nod. Ashley sounds odd, but Shepard is the same Shepard she’s always been. The red and black, with the chestnut-gold of her hair — it’s really her. “We’re here to find a quarian. Veetor. When he saw us landing, he hid, and we believe he’s the one who reprogrammed the mechs and drones to attack.”

Together, they plan. When they split up, Tali leaves grinning like an idiot.

\- - -

For a minute, just a minute, Miranda thinks Shepard might let them fight the quarians and take Veetor back to the base. There’s a dark gleam in her eyes. It doesn’t bode well for whoever it’s directed at, but —

“Don’t worry, Tali. You can take Veetor. I’m not about to separate a sick man from help.” Nora smiles, and it’s the same soft smile she gave the quarian earlier. “Won’t you come with us?”

Tali’zorah vas Neema sighs. “I wish I could, Shepard. But I can’t right now. Save a spot for me. If I can… if I can finish my mission well, I will join you.”

“It’ll be just like the old days.” And Miranda sees a flicker in Nora’s eyes. Before she identifies it, it’s gone.

\- - -

She steps into the room and closes her eyes as the orange light washes over her. When she opens them, the Illusive Man greets her.

Everything’s exactly as she expected it to be. Of course he already had “suspicions”.

But then he ends the call with, “We’ve decrypted more of the files from the rogues that resurrected you. It turns out they had some more… surprises… planned. I’ve sent someone else to fill you in.”

The image dies. She sighs and steps out of the room, running her hand through her ponytail. I wonder how they kept it intact? She makes up her mind to ask Miranda — and the thought promptly disappears. “Joker?” she gasps, barely believing it.

“Commander. Think it’ll be just like old times?” he says with a laugh. If she didn’t know it’d break at least one bone —

“Aw, fuck it,” she mutters. Nora darts across the room and hugs him. It’s not a full-force hug, not even close, but it feels good. “I can’t believe it.”

His arms fall around her, touch ginger and trembling more than a bit. “Uh, yeah. Look who’s talking! I saw you get spaced.”

“No rest for the wicked, you know,” she remarks, pulling back. “How did you get here?”

“Well…” he beckons her forward as he hobbles away himself. He explains while they walk. By the time they reach a door she hasn’t seen before, he’s explained what happened after… after.

“Did you know about this? About me being… whatevered?” she asks. _I hope not, I hope not, I hope not_  repeats in her brain as they cross the room.

“You think I would have been able to keep my mouth shut?” he replies with a snort. “Besides, I don’t trust the Illusive Man, and he doesn’t much trust me. But he lets me fly.” He grins and taps a button. “And look what he found on the planet below Whackjobs-R-Us.”

Light spills over something, incredibly sleek, shining even through the darkness. Another light flickers on. And another. Nora’s breath whooshes out as she stares, plastering her hands and face to the window. “It’s her,” she finally whispers after a moment of silence. “It’s my ship.”

“It’s not quite the original, but damn close.” Joker leans against the glass beside her. “Guess she needs a name, huh?”

Nora snorts. “What else is there to name her?”

\- - -

She has a cabin. A very nice cabin. Once they’re loaded on, she stands in front of the empty fishtank and stares into the water. “What am I even doing?” she asks the castle in the far corner. “Leading a suicide mission…” Her mind finishes the thought, _At least I might end up dead. An even more heroic death than last time._

Nora knows she shouldn’t be thinking those things. She’s only been awake for… maybe an Earth week. Yet fatigue greets her when she closes her eyes. It’s not battle fatigue. It’s not body fatigue. It’s the kind she knows so well from her childhood on earth — the kind sunk into her bones and her brain, determined to suffocate her somehow. Turning from the tank, she steps toward the bed, shedding her armor. Despite how nice it is, she doesn’t bother picking it up from the floor. The undersuit gets tossed and lands halfway over the private terminal. Beside her bed, she eyes the wardrobe and sighs. Suits of Cerberus-embroidered clothes hang within, down to neat pajama sets. Even the underwear sparkles with little jeweled Cerberus icons. They’re all perfectly her size. After she shucks her underwear and crawls beneath the blanket, the thought strikes her — how did they get her clothes sized so well and so quickly?

Wiggling into the center of the bed, she ponders as she rolls onto her back. As soon as she does, every thought flits away. Above the bed is a gigantic skylight, showing the millions of distant galaxies and stars, letting the blue flicker of the mass-effect fields reflect through the cabin.

It’s peaceful. The vast emptiness makes her wistful. So she closes her eyes and falls asleep to thoughts of not existing.

\- - -

Docking at Omega brings some part of Nora to life. As soon as they step onto the dark landing pad outside the Normandy, she takes a deep breath. Miranda looks over to see the cybernetics in Shepard’s eyes gleaming in the lowlight. “It’s good to know the universe never changes,” Nora mutters, and moves forward. “You said the mercenary contact was here?”

“Yes.” Before she can say any more, the commander’s several feet ahead of her and moving quickly. The way she walks right now reminds Miranda of large Earth animals, of turians — of **predators**. More than one alien whistles at Nora as she passes by. The whistles fade when she turns her head and stares them down. Miranda tries to imagine what it would be like to have the commander stare her down, all glowing scars and eyes, and can’t.

(She doesn’t have to imagine for long, though.)

Near the entrance to Omega proper, someone stands. From here, Miranda can see the cobbled together pieces of armor. He’s clearly a mercenary. The way he looms over a batarian tells her he’s not a particularly merciful one. He turns and she catches his eye — his face isn’t entirely his own, it seems. Poorly grafted.

Nora stiffens, her entire body going still, before she moves forward. “Zaeed? Zaeed Massani?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” the man calls over his shoulder. His knee goes up into the batarian’s gut as soon as the alien tries to gasp something. “Nobody told you you could talk, jackass.”

“I was told we were picking up one man, not two,” Nora growls, moving closer. “And I don’t think you need to be quite that rough.”

“He’s a batarian delinquent.” Zaeed shrugs and turns to Nora. She barely comes to the bottom of his chin. “Pissed off someone rich enough to hire me to bring him in. Even paid the ‘bring ‘em in alive’ bonus.”

“Pleasee…didn’t do it…” the batarian gasps from the floor.

“I said shut it!” Massani spits, spinning to kick at his captive.

It doesn’t work.

Instead, his food bangs into a mass effect field. “Shit! The hell?”

“Enough, Massani. Turn your man in and report to the Normandy. If you’re going to be on my ship, you’ll be operating by my rules. Stop and subdue is a standing order.” Nora uncurls her fingers. The field disappears. “I’ll see you later. I have business in Omega.”

She pivots, heading towards the entrance to Omega. “Did the Illusive Man tell you about our arrangement?” Zaeed calls after her. Miranda raises an eyebrow at him.

“No. We’ll discuss it later,” Shepard calls back. “Get moving.” Neither Miranda nor Jacob have moved, still eying Zaeed. “Lawson! Taylor!” she barks. They scramble.

\- - -

Sound, of bustling crowds, of hovercars and thumping music, echoes from the end of the hallway. Before they reach it, though, a nearly skeletal salarian steps into their path. “W-welcome to Omega! New here? I can always t-tell!” he crows. “Allow me to —” Behind him, a batarian guard stops and coughs. “Oh! Hello, Moklan, I just —”

“Leave. Now.” When the salarian scampers away, the guard turns his attention to them. “Scavengers. Welcome to Omega, Shepard.”

Nora snorts. “Oh, you know who I am? I’m assuming you had me tagged as soon as I entered the system, if your leader is as good as I’ve heard.”

Moklan smiles, in his weird batarian way. “Of course she is. Aria wants to know what brings dead Spectres back to life… and into her territory. I’d suggest presenting yourself to her right away.”

Shepard sniffs and steps forward. “You say that like I wasn’t already planning it. I know my presence tends to be volatile, but I’m doing my best to keep quiet.”

He just grunts, “Afterlife. Now.”

“Already died once, thanks,” Nora murmurs, breezing past him, into the bustle of the crowd. Miranda and Jacob follow. Somehow, her biotics lets her feel them behind her. It’s like a distant pulse at the back of her skull. Jacob, four o’clock. Miranda at seven thirty.

“Afterlife is the name of the club Aria runs Omega from,” Miranda murmurs.

Nora looks back to Miranda and glares. “You think I couldn’t have figured that out? It’s just a little bit obvious,” she snaps, waving at the view before them. Across the massive boulevard, choked with aliens of all kinds, a huge entrance awaits. Afterlife pulses neon above the doors. “Someone has an ego.”

“For good reason, though. One woman running an entire space station, choked with mercs and — ooh, **hello** ,” Jacob says. Halfway through his thought, his attention falls on someone. Nora follows his eyes and finds a scantily clad asari waiting in line to enter the club. “Do you, uh, think you’re going to need backup with Aria?”

This time, it’s Jacob who gets the steely glare. Beside her, Nora can practically feel Miranda doing the same. “Really? Preparing for a suicide mission and you’re focused on sex?” _I can’t blame him,_ her thoughts whisper. _That’s a very pretty asari._

“Suicide mission. Might not come back. Live life to the fullest, right?” he offers, easy grin sliding into place.

Nora rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine. You have two hours, max. Meet us back at the Normandy.”

“Aye aye, Commander!” he says with a salute. “Now I just gotta find a mirror…”

Shepard watches him hurry off, amused smirk pulling at one side of her lips. “Is this common?”

“Which part? Jacob flaunting himself? Cerberus operatives having sex with aliens? Being on Omega?” Miranda asks, brushing her hair back over her shoulder and checking her gun.

“Jacob flaunting himself was what I had in mind, yes,” Nora answers, words dry. “Is he always so… eager?”

“It’s been a while since he went on a mission. Cerberus doesn’t have anti-frat regs, but most of our women are… older.” The pause tells Nora what Miranda’s not saying: old, or uninterested. “He’s a nice man.”

“Nice is boring.”

“A little.”

\- - -

Not far away, Jacob ducks into a comm booth. From here, he can still track the blood-red of Shepard’s armor and the gleaming white of Miranda’s bodysuit. They move up, into the line waiting to enter Afterlife, and idle there, waiting for it to move forward. “Got lucky,” he whispers as he dials a familiar omnitool number.

An equally familiar voice comes out of the speaker. “Taylor. Anything?”

“Anything? Hell yeah, I got a whole damn lot of things. What do you want to hear first? About who’s attacking the colonies, who we’re dealing with, or who the hell is putting together a strike team right now?” he hisses into the microphone.

“Start with who’s leading.”

“It’s Shepard, sir.” Honestly, even after spending his whole life around the military, Jacob is impressed by the level of swearing that filters through the comm.

“What do you mean, it’s Shepard? Did those Cerberus bastards clone her? I swear to every known race in Council space and beyond, if they did, I’ll —” He cuts off the angry voice quickly.

“No, sir. It’s really her. Don’t ask me how they did it. Operative Lawson would be the one to interrogate for that. She’s the one decrypting the files.” He takes a deep breath. “We got sent to take out a rogue base. We found her there. She’s sharp-minded, entirely herself as far as I can tell. Damn lot of cybernetics in her body, but… not as much as the other one.”

“The other one?” the voice asks, shaky and more than slightly dubious.

“Looks like that cell had been out on a limb for a while. They also had Ashley Williams. Alive. At least half cybernetics.” More swearing from the other side of the line. “We’re on Omega now.”

“Omega? Is there a reason your first stop was the most dangerous place in Terminus?”

“Looking for recruits willing to go on a suicide mission. Not a lot of those outside of Omega, boss.”

\- - -

Before they’re in the line for long, one of the bouncers catches Shepard’s eye and waves her forward. As she passes, a very short human complains, “Aria is expecting me!”

“No, Aria is expecting her. If she was expecting you, you’d be inside,” the batarian rumbles. “Get to the back of the line. Your complaining just bumped you.”

They pass out of earshot before she hears the reply. As she walks into the club, doors sliding open before her, she glances about as slyly as possible. “Nice place for a dump like this,” she murmurs. Miranda nods.

Passing through the lobby, or what passes for it, one batarian catches Nora’s eyes and starts to his feet. Her gaze tightens on him. One hand slides to the pistol holstered on her right hip, the other to the sub-machine gun on her left. He backs down. They enter the club proper without incident.

Music pulses. The beat rumbles through the floor. If she leans her head back, she can see exotic dancers of all kinds dancing on poles, in laps, on tables… wherever they can get attention. She must say, she’s impressed. Chora’s Den and Flux had an abundance of asari. Here, batarian women, asari, drell, and even turian women work their wiles. Her gaze catches on one particularly lithe turian female. Her plates are almost golden in the light, her mandibles long and smooth, and her fringe neatly groomed. “I could get to like this place.”

\- - -

Miranda watches Nora. If she were a hawk, perhaps, it would feel less out of place. But the other woman’s eyes roam almost constantly as they walk through the club and mount the stairs. Since she was… awoken… in the Lazarus lab, she’s seemed out of place. Only when she’s around Joker, when she was around vas Neema, did she seem… at ease. But now, with the darkness playing over her features between pulses of light, she seems at home. Something’s settled. The music seems to center her. Her predator’s walk eases, but is no less predatory.

Then she comes face-to-face with Aria. “That’s close enough,” the asari purrs as Nora steps onto the platform. Every guard pulls a gun. Somehow, **somehow** , Miranda didn’t expect this. She pulls her own gun and whirls, keeping her back to Shepard’s. “Scan her.”

One of the guards opens his omnitool and runs it over Nora. Nora laughs. It’s low and throaty, unlike the laughter Miranda heard in the vids. “I hope you’re not looking for weapons. Aside from the guns I’m wearing, I’m kind of dangerous without them.”

“Dead Spectres are a good reason for caution,” Aria murmurs.

“Ah, yes, because there’s so many people with my face,” Shepard spits. “I have questions. I was told you could answer them.”

Her guard nods to Aria, who finally turns and faces them. “Depends on the question. After all, I am Omega, and some questions don’t need answers. Not if they’ll bring trouble to my station.”

The guard nods and rumbles, “Omega only has one rule.”

“Don’t fuck with Aria,” the asari adds on, sliding into her seat.

“Easy to remember. I’m sure that doesn’t stop anyone, though,” Nora purrs right back. “Am I to assume offenders are harshly dealt with?” The guard nods. “I’ll make sure not to offend, then.” Aria gestures to a seat. Shepard takes it. Miranda stays at the bottom of the stairs. The guards put away their weapons, so she stows hers. But then — no good biotic _needs_ a weapon.

“What do you need?” Aria asks, tilting her head just slightly.

“I won’t waste your time. I’m looking for two people: Archangel, and Mordin Solus. Both are important to my mission. I won’t leave without either one.” Nora slides off one gauntlet and inspects her nails. But Miranda doesn’t miss how her eyes remain glued to Aria.

“Archangel? Popular man,” Aria laughs. “And Mordin… oh, Mordin. He’s in the quarantine zone. Good lucking getting him out. There’s a recruiter downstairs for the band of mercs trying to take out Archangel. They can… escort you there, I’m sure.”

A few more words, and then Nora stands and bows. She mumbles something, something Miranda can’t hear, and Aria jolts upright. “I — how did you —” Aria’s eyes narrow. “Well played, Commander. Well played.”

\- - -

Jacob jogs up to Miranda and Nora when they step out of Afterlife, red slap mark plain on his cheek. “Commander, Lawson,” he greets them. Miranda takes one look at him and hides a laugh behind her hand.

“Struck out, hm? Perhaps your next try will be more… fruitful.”

Miranda’s laugh doesn’t sour his good mood. “Where to next, boss?” he asks, saluting Shepard crisply.

“Go back to the Normandy and fetch Ashley. We’re going after Archangel. While you’re getting her, Miranda and I are going to comb some of these shops for anything useful.” Nora runs a hand through her hand as she descends the steps. “We’ll be in the market district. Comm us.”

\- - -

Shopping doesn’t ease the itch under Nora’s skin. Darkness seethes in the air here. It’s not a happy place. Right now, too much of her revels in the idea of death to be uncomfortable with it. More than once, she catches Miranda eying her. She just smirks at the operative and turns away.

Perhaps it’s the cybernetics. Perhaps it’s her attitude. Whatever it is, two or three merchants offer her discounts after they see her inspect something.

“You’d think Omega would be used to people looking for murder,” she mutters, moving towards the market entrance.

\- - -

His gaze doesn’t blur. Knees shaking? Fingers cramped? Yes. So tired he doesn’t want to breathe? Yes.

But his gaze never blurs. Everything has come down to two actions, with the occasional third. His words to his father come unbidden.

Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire.

Reload.

Aim. Fire.

Aim — _wait_. His eye catches the N7 decoration on armor as more mercs vault over the barricade. Despite that he knows, knows, Shepard is dead, his eye lingers before his talon tightens on the trigger.

And then, the rifle nearly falls from senseless hands.

_It can’t be._

_She’s dead._

But she stands there, watching the mercenaries charge ahead. Her face is scarred differently, but he never forgets anyone, and he knows her so well. Chestnut hair, bound into a long tail. Sharp eyes, though they’re more shadowed now.

“My chances just got better,” he tells his father, and hangs up.

His heart beats faster, somehow. His focus sharpens. The rhythm returns.

And then she charges down the bridge, biotic power rippling out from her. She was always strong, more through practice than ability, but now — he can feel it from here! Half a dozen mercenaries shriek as a shockwave of power explodes beneath them, sending them into the air. They land with meaty thunks. He won’t have to worry about them.

Behind her, two goons in Cerberus armor trail, picking off mercs with their own abilities. Two seconds for each ( _biotics, soldiers, not entirely loyal yet)_  and then he’s back to firing. Through his scope, he can see her advance. One merc, a foolish-faced krogan Wrex would have ‘put down for the good of the galaxy’, charges her.

That one flies off the side of the bridge with a flick of her hand.

Finally, he hears her batter in the doors. Two more mercs. He picks one off — she’s at the door. He can feel her, pulsing behind him, but this one last target —

He turns and doffs his helmet. He’s prepared for anger, joy, anything but what happens. Anything but what he sees and hears.

Nora stands before him. It is Nora, truly, but it’s not the same kind of Nora he used to know. Her eyes are dull, shadowed pits, her body moving through routine. Her voice is flat. And then recognition flickers over her face. “Garrus?” she breathes, eyes inflating impossibly wide, like they once did. He cocks his head in answer. “GARRUS!” she shouts. Only his turian reflexes save him from getting knocked over as she rockets across the room, slamming into him. Her arms wrap around him. They don’t meet, but they attempt it.

“Nora,” he breathes. It’s the first time he’s ever said her name to her face. He’s tired, and sore, but even the betrayal can’t dampen this moment. One hand wraps around her waist. The other gently settles on her head. “I thought… How are you alive?”

“Long story,” she breathes. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping my skills sharp,” he says to the top of her head. “A little target practice.”

Nora steps back and looks up, into his face. Her eyes narrow, in the expression he recognizes so well. It’s the _that’s bullshit, but okay_ expression. “You look tired. Are you okay? I know they’ve been hitting you hard…”

He smiles, just a bit. “Been better. Sure is good to see your face, though.” Before he can continue, another voice interrupts from the door.

“Touching reunion time? I elect to skip that,” a rather robotic Ashley Williams scoffs as she enters, slinging her grenade launcher over her shoulder. **Now** his jaw drops. Nora slides from his arms, scrunching her nose.

“What did you do? Storm the graveyard?” he demands of the Cerberus goons.

“We did nothing. Others did this, and they did what they thought was necessary to ensure success,” the smug-looking girl replies crisply. “We don’t have much time. I’m sure the mercenaries are amassing for another attack.”

He moves to pry himself off his resting place, but it’s unnecessary. “I’ll check,” Ashley announces, stalking towards the large open window. “By the way, you’re welcome. Since I came in the second wave, I booby-trapped the entrance while you were playing best friends.” Her eye whirs and clicks. “LOKI mechs, incoming, wave of seven.” Before he can blink, the rifle on her back is in her hands. Chk-chk-chk! “Wave of four.” She didn’t even need to use the scope.

“That’s… some upgrade,” he mumbles. Shepard helps pull him to his feet. Part of him remains focused. The rest is dancing and singing, Shepard came to save me!

\- - -

Miranda watches. She does it well. Nora stays upstairs with Archa- _Vakarian_ , and sends the others to the ground floor. What the mech doesn’t take care of, the two above do. Vakarian’s a good shot. She can tell which kills are his. Nora’s shots are messier, but functional. And what makes it to the entrance, Ashley’s booby traps take care of.

When the salarian leader comes storming through, he doesn’t make it to them unscathed. There’s a half dozen holes in him. His left arm doesn’t work, and one of his horns is gone. Miranda takes great pleasure in overloading his omnitool and watching him jerk about like a fish out of water.

 **Pow**! Ashley finishes him with a headshot, pointblank. Then she turns to Miranda, lips downturned. “Cruelty in battle is unnecessary.”

“He knew the risks. For all we know, he may have danced on our corpses if he’d won.” She turns and goes back upstairs. How on earth she’s going to turn the sniper to her advantage, she doesn’t know.

\- - -

Ashley sighs when she gets left behind to guard Garrus. The others go down to the basement.

“So, is this what you’ve been doing since the Commander died?” she asks, voice faintly robotic. She knows she sounds callous and uncaring. It’s okay.

“Almost.” _Pop_. Two mercenaries go down with one shot. She’s a little impressed. “There was a team…” Garrus inclines his head toward the corner of the room.

“So that’s why there are body bags in here,” she remarks. _Poppoppop_. Five mercs fall. “Here I just thought you enjoyed mementos.”

He takes out another. The bridge is empty for the moment, so they duck down behind their cover and rest. “Ashley… what happened? You’re… well, I know you died. But this —”

“Cerberus thought I was their best chance. Or at least they did until Shepard died. Why settle for a gunnery chief when you can have the commander herself?” Her remaining eye blinks at him. The cybernetic one doesn’t move. “Once she died, they decided I would be a good carrot for the stick.”

Her cybernetic ear alerts her to the footsteps on the bridge. She pops up and fires two rounds, taking out the vanguard of the wave. “I see that Krogan merc leader getting ready. Or, you know, roaring and blustering. Same difference. Prepare yourself.” She glances over at him and frowns. “And for the love of biotics, put your helmet back on!”

“You don’t have —” She glares at him and taps a button on the side of her face. The cybernetics expand, covering her entire face in a skin-tight helmet. “Well. Alright then. Helmet.”

\- - -

Jacob and Miranda exchange glances when Nora charges ahead, mid-fight, and actually bodily slams into a vorcha. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen her do that before,” he mutters.

“The effects of discovering Archangel is Garrus Vakarian…” Miranda muses, very quietly. “I do not believe I have seen her so elated since we woke her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be useful,” Jacob replies, sighting out another vorcha and taking him down. “Alright — hot damn, Commander!” Nora’s flying through the waves of enemies, her body glowing with biotic energy. Her high-kick slams into a krogan’s head and actually makes him stumble. She follows up with a biotic-charged punch. The krogan’s down for the count.

“Very useful indeed.” Miranda curls her fingers over her trigger and overloads another vorcha’s omnitool before taking him out with a quick shot. “This battle fervor is… unbelievable.”

“Grenade!” Jacob dives around a corner and she follows suit. “Damn, though. Look at her go.” He slides around the corner, just a bit, and fires. “I thought she had something going on with that asari doctor, not a turian.”

“She did.” Jacob’s bumbling gives Miranda an idea. Her eyes narrow as she explodes from cover and uses her biotics to slam a vorcha pyromaniac into the wall.

_Turian-human romances are not unheard of… I should watch the old Normandy’s surveillance logs._

“Let’s go!” Nora bellows, rushing past them. “Shutter’s closing and I threw my entire grenade belt in with those numbskulls.”

“Your entire — **shit**!” Jacob streaks after Nora. Miranda follows. On their tails follows a thunderous _**BOOM**_! “Guess nobody’s using that door for a while,” Jacob pants as they regain their breath.

“One more shutter, move,” Nora commands. Miranda can’t help marveling. There’s always a tone of command in Shepard’s voice. But it’s become something more. This is, as Jacob so astutely observed a few days ago, Commander Goddamn Shepard.

\- - -

Garrus almost laughs when Nora comes back up, blood-splattered and wild-eyed, driving her fist through Garm’s head. It’s almost like the old days. “Think we can make a push out of here?” she asks, stretching, limbering up. His eyes follow her as she stretches, one arm nearly wrapping all the way around her waist from behind.

“Probably.” He turns to the smug girl — Miranda — and asks, “Are humans supposed to be that flexible? Or did you put that in when you resurrected her?”

“Garrus, leave Miranda alone,” Nora sighs. “I’ve always been stretchy. You never noticed how horrified Kaidan was every time I sat down?”

Ashley clicks in a new thermal clip before chiming in. “It’s true. She can also almost wrap her legs around her waist, and I know she can put them behind her head.”

Nora’s head jerks up from the… whatever she’s doing with her legs splayed on the floor. “Ashley! You said you wouldn’t tell!”

“And I didn’t. I just shared pertinent information,” Ashley answers with a smirk.

Then a dull roar distracts them all. That damn gunship comes flying out of the headquarters. “Well, shit,” he announces to nobody in particular.

“I took care of that!” Nora protests.

“Stabbing the mechanic means it’s not fully repaired, not that it’s not functional,” Miranda murmurs, chambering a round.

All of them dive for cover as the gunship opens fire. “You think you can mess with the Blue Suns?” the leader roars. “This ends now!”

He pops up to line up a shot and —

**Light**

_pain_

  
he can taste             his life blood drainin g a wa y

\- - -

“GARRUS!” Ashley and Nora roar together. Instinct kicks in for both of them. Ashley charges out of cover, straight for the gunship, unshouldering her rocket launcher as she goes. Biotic energy slams into the windshield, cracking it, just in time for her rocket to blow a hole into it.

Nora comes from cover, shrieking at unearthly levels. Ashley turns as her commander charges, catching the small woman’s foot and hurling her. Between Ashley’s strength and biotics, she lands _on_ the nose of the gunship. One fist shatters what remains of the windshield. Then Nora dives into the cockpit and yanks out Tarak.

Anger pulses through her body. She’s not sure if it’s making her stronger or not, but she doesn’t care right now. “This is for Garrus, you dumb _fuck_ ,” she snarls. The batarian’s throat collapses under her biotically enhanced grip.

Without its pilot, the gunship spirals. Nora’s first instinct is to leap away, but instead she pushes biotics into her feet and jumps into the air. It’s not a far jump, but far enough to keep her from being consumed by the fireball the gunship makes. Tarak’s body drops from her bloody fist as she lands on the heap of smoking wreckage. Even through her armor, she can feel the heat it gives off.

“Are there any other Blue Suns who want to challenge me?” she shouts, her helmet amplifying her voice. “I promise you, you won’t win! If Archangel is dead, I will eradicate every lowly pile of flesh calling itself a Blue Sun! For your sake, I hope he lives!”

\- - -

While Nora grandstands outside on a heap of wreckage, Jacob helps Miranda stop Garrus from bleeding out. “Shit, _shit_ , _shiiit_ ,” he sings under his breath.

“Keep your fingers there!” she barks at him. He’s fairly sure he’s holding an artery closed.

“What about his helmet?” he asks. Only the gauntlets on his hands keep him from cutting his hands on the shards in the visor.

“It may be the only thing holding his head together! Leave it on!” she snaps. “Ashley, patch in to the Normandy and get us a shuttle! Now!”

Ashley rolls her eyes. “I’m already on the line with Joker,” she tells Miranda before speaking into her comm again. “Make sure Chakwas is ready! I’m not sure how much surgery he’ll need, but I’m pretty sure at least half his blood is on the floor. I’ll hit Aria up and see if we’re allowed to raid any dextro blood banks.”

Garrus gurgles on the floor. “Tell… Nora… less speech,” he gasps through the blood.

“Did she always get this dramatic?” Miranda asks over her shoulder. “There were few videos of her missions planet-side. I wasn’t aware she was… in the habit of monologuing.”

Ashley laughs as she scoops up the stock of weapons in the corner. “Nora? Dramatic? Never. What made you think that?”

“Sarcasm from the robot girl? Damn, didn’t know you had it in you,” Jacob mutters.

“She likes grandstanding. Makes her seem more heroic, maybe?” Ashley shrugs and rolls her shoulders. “I think I can hear a shuttle.”

“How — right. Robot girl.” He applies more pressure and mutters under his breath, “Man. What a crew.”

\- - -

Zaeed’s just walking about, learning the layabout of the ship, when Shepard flies past him. An automated stretcher comes after her, full of bloody turian and battered armor. “The hell?” he mumbles and follows.

They go straight to the med bay. That silver fox of a doctor is already gloved up and ready to go. Lawson scrubs in fast enough. The Commander paces, watching through the clear window. When the turian stabilizes, she almost collapses. Taylor catches her. “Hey, Ashley, help me get the Commander up to her cabin,” he asks the robotic girl.

“’M fine,” the commander mumbles.

“You’re lying. My implants tell me you’re still in partial shock,” ‘Ashley’ spits. “Up to the cabin. No excuses.”

Between the two operatives, they get the commander tugged into the elevator. Zaeed watches them go. He turns back to the show of mandibles and blood just in time. Doctor Chakwas turns away to retrieve something. Lawson watches her turn, eyes narrowed. Almost faster than Zaeed can see, she reaches out and slips something underneath the turian’s mandible. Glinting — probably a chip.

His eyes narrow. “Cerberus wants a turian, eh? Or just leverage.” For all his brawn, he’s not stupid, either. The worry on the commander’s face means this mysterious alien will almost certainly be leverage.

\- - -

Inside the med bay, an hour later, Karin finally waves Miranda off. “Everything will be cleanup from here, Operative. Go rest. I’ll be perfectly fine. Not the first time I’ve stopped Officer Vakarian from bleeding out.”

“If you’re sure…” Miranda sighs, looking uncomfortable.

“Go, girl. I’m twice your age, even if you are XO.” Karin turns to the table to retrieve bandages. Behind her, the whoosh of the door opening and shutting relieves her. “Finally.”

And then it opens and shuts again. “Hey, foxy doctor,” the mercenary’s voice greets her. “Got something you might like to know.”

“What is it, Mr. Massani?” she asks, words crisp. “I’m quite busy.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to be a lot busier later down the line if you don’t listen,” he grunts. She turns toward him and nearly jumps out of her skin. He’s already beside Garrus’s sickbed. She hadn’t heard him approach.

“Well, out with it!” she snaps, leaning over to bandage the poor turian’s head.

“Little Lawson thought it’d be a good idea to stick in some something without you noticing,” Zaeed informs her. “Check under his mandible. Looked like something computery.”

Karin can’t help her smirk. “Ah, yes.” She turns and picks up the tiny chip, hidden beneath a bloody pile of gauze. “You mean this?”

“Yeh found it?” he gawks. “I didn’t even see —”

“My med bay is very sacred, Mr. Massani. I’m aware of far more than most people think.” She drops the chip into the trash and returns to her work.

The mercenary stares at her, mouth agape, for a solid minute. Then, “God, that’s hot.”

\- - -

After the turian shows up in the comm room, Miranda writes a short note to the Illusive Man.

_Sir,_

_Archangel was G. Vakarian, Shepard’s former crewmate._

_Attempted to place a control chip on his person. Unsuccessful. May be due to alien brain chemistry._

_Unexpected impact on Shepard’s psyche, almost certainly in ways less beneficial to Cerberus. Vakarian was once C-Sec, after all._

_M. Lawson_

\- - -

When they stock up to go into the quarantine zone, he assumes he’s coming with her. They meet at the airlock out of the Normandy. “Garrus?” she asks, eyebrow high.

“Nora,” he answers, shifting the rifle’s weight.

“You’re… not going with me on this mission,” she mutters. “Sorry. I hear this plague effects turians.”

“But you’ll need me to —”

“I know you want to have my six, Garrus,” she stops him gently, one hand on his chestplate. “But you already almost died once this week. I can’t lose you, okay? Stay here. You’re not ready for the field yet. I **know** Karin hasn’t released you.”

“Yes, but —” He stops and sighs. Ashley looks at him, her old grin distorted by the cybernetics.

“Shitty luck, Vakarian.”

\- - -

Ashley listens to Nora, plying sweet words, trying to get them into the plague zone. After ten minutes, she’s had enough. So she stomps up and shoves in front of Nora.

“Listen. Quarantine zone means nobody comes out. Doesn’t say anything about people going in. Let me in, or I’ll shoot you, and then let myself in.” For extra menace, she whirs her mechanical eye at him. It works.

“I, er, yeah. Okay. You… I’ll just radio and let the others know you’re coming.”

“Hey!” the civilian woman protests. “You’re letting them in, and not me?”

After the entire thing, Ashley doesn't want to be nice. She whirls on the woman and snarls, “I have a grenade launcher.” As an afterthought, she adds, “Bitch.”

\- - -

Between Nora, Ashley, and Miranda, the Blue Suns don’t stand a chance. _That sounds arrogant,_ Miranda thinks as she hurls a handful of biotic power straight into one’s face and sends him to the floor, choking on nothing. _But we were all… engineered to win._ Ashley’s literally a death machine — she doesn’t even need to stand still to get off good shots.

And Nora? Well, Miranda’s very glad Cerberus — rather, the rogue cell — splurged on the more expensive biotic implants for her. Holovids always showed her as giving a good show in battle, but now — now she’s a force of nature. Miranda already saw a little of it. But after recovering Vakarian? Her heart is back in the fight. Her singularities don’t dissipate for long enough that they all have to edge around them if they don’t want to get trapped. Her warp literally warps armor. One krogan gets turned into a crumbled ball.

So she’s not entirely surprised when Mordin Solus yanks her aside after telling Shepard what the price of his cooperation is. “Two highly cybernetic human soldiers. Very dangerous, yes. Very valuable, also yes. Be careful. Many tinker here. Many would take them apart.” His eyes flick back and forth, in that nervous way so many salarians have. “Very powerful implants on Commander. May have mental impact. Soldier needs psychological monitoring. Dangerous.”

“Noted, doctor,” she tells him, cool as always.

When they leave the clinic, she doesn’t let either of them out of her sight. She’ll be damned before she lets her job get taken apart.

\- - -

 

Ashley sits on the table in the new doctor’s lab. He fusses about her, connecting wires, tinkering viciously. “Ah, yes. Loyalty software,” she hears him mutter. It’s so quiet. She wasn’t meant to hear.

It makes her freeze. She’d thought her new loyalty to Cerberus to be because of… well, because of Shepard. If they wrote loyalty software and installed it in her, what else have they done? Have they written out the best parts of her personality?

Have they installed contingency plans in her?

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could also be called, "A lot of thoughts thrown into a giant pile".


	3. Mercy Misplaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prisons, warlords, and powerful women. Yet Nora still remembers the silence of space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still bad. Still no beta. Sorry. More suicidal ideation in this chapter.

Once back on the ship, Nora curls in her desk chair and stares at her private terminal. Downstairs, Doctor Solus is settling in prior to travel, so she has time for nothing. Here, curled in a blanket, she thinks.

_The Illusive Man said Liara was working for the Shadow Broker. But even if she is, how much could two years have changed her?_

After a half hour, she rolls her chair closer to the desk. Quick taps open a message box — but she closes it after a moment. And then she opens it again. The seventh time she does it, she sets her jaw and starts writing.

_Liara,_

_It’s Nora._

_That probably sounds impossible. I don’t blame you if you thought that. Cerberus found my body. A rogue cell resurrected me._

_Ashley is also here. I found Garrus on Omega._

_Everything is so bleak now, Liara. Maybe if the Council hadn’t brushed away all our concerns, I would feel less empty now. But I am nothing like the Shepard I once was. I’m stuffed full of Cerberus tech. The Alliance would not have me, I am certain. The Illusive Man — in charge of Cerberus — all but has a puppet in me. He knows it. I know it. He’s sent me after Collectors. I’ll have to go through the Omega-4 relay._

_It’s suicide. I know it is. Honestly, the thought of a heroic death is what propels me. I’m barely functioning. You saw my thoughts, Liara, you saw all of me, and I have so little energy. I’ve died once, brushed off into obscurity. I cannot shake the idea that is how this will end._

_I wish you were here, Liara. You were always so strong, even after Benezia died. And you have become more, I am told, than even I ever thought you could be. The Illusive Man says you work for the Shadow Broker. I do not know how true this is. I don’t know if I care to know. But if you are, I am sure you excel. You are brilliant. You always have been. Your brilliance is only overshadowed by your warmth._

_Goddess watch over you, wherever you are, Liara._

_I miss you._

_N. Shepard_

For another fifteen minutes, she stares at the letter. It’s raw, and emotional. She doesn’t know if she wants to send it.

She closes it. _Do you want to save this draft?_

She clicks yes.

  
\- - -

  
It turns out the engineers have something to finish installing before they take off. While they finish, Miranda, Garrus, and Nora go on-station to deal with a favor for Aria. It’s the quickest thing they’ve done on Omega — in, shootout, and done. Honestly, Miranda’s relieved when Nora turns to them and suggests, “We’re in Afterlife. Let’s stop and have a drink or two before we go up to meet with Aria.”

“As you wish, Commander,” Miranda replies. Halfway to the bar, the turian gets distracted by something. A glance tells Miranda it’s one of the female turian dancers. She sighs and follows Shepard, who’s already at the bar, glass in hand.

“Bottoms up?” Nora asks, faint smile on her lips. And then she chugs it. Miranda blinks, sighs, and turns to order her own drink — but the bartender is nowhere in sight.

Seconds later, the turian’s gravelly voice fills her ears. “Shit! Shepard. Who served you that drink?”

Miranda half-turns and sees the shrug from the corner of her eye. “I think it was a batarian. Why?” Nora answers. Before Garrus can respond, she continues, “He disappeared, whoever he was. I need a refill!” Then —

Shepard’s legs wobble. They fold. The commander’s body slides to the floor, eyes rolling back in her head. Vakarian catches Nora. Miranda spins, gun out, scanning the room. A low chuckle registers in her ears. She whirls on the sound and rapid-fire thoughts fly through her head. _Batarian. Bartender’s uniform. Laughing, looking at Shepard with victory, that’s not the color of Noverian rum —_

 **BANG!** The batarian falls, bullet between his eyes. Miranda kneels beside Nora, checking her vitals.

“Good job,” Vakarian mumbles, standing to his feet, Nora gathered in his arms. “Shady bastard’s been poisoning humans for a while. I — Archangel kept meaning to go after him, I hear, but it never happened.”

“Take her to the Normandy. I’ll speak with Aria,” Miranda orders, voice soft and steely. He nods and strides off.

  
\- - -

  
Miranda’s busy filling out field reports for the last few days when her office door slides open to admit Nora. Her skin’s pale, but she’s on her feet. When the short woman walks in, eying the room, Miranda closes her reports. “Are you terribly busy?” Nora asks. The soft smile touching her face is clearly meant to ease Miranda. “I like to get to know my crew a little bit.”

“Would you like to get to know me, or would you like to replace Dr. T’soni?” Miranda asks, glancing down. The sound of Nora choking almost makes her laugh.

“…uh, what?” Nora finally manages, voice weak. This time, Miranda can’t help her little snort. “Are you pranking me?” She doesn’t look up. The twitching of her lips would certainly give her away. “Miranda, I’m so proud! I didn’t know you knew how to tell jokes!”

“Excuse me?” Miranda blurts, whipping her head up. “I — oh.” Nora’s got a wicked grin on. “I don’t do it often, no,” she sighs. “This is why.”

Still grinning, Nora flops into the chair in front of Miranda’s desk. “I guess now would be a good time to apologize for checking you out when I first woke up, then,” she remarks. _That_ makes Miranda hit the enter key much harder than necessary.

“You… what?” she asks. After checking to make sure the file sent, she swivels her chair around to face Nora fully. “You did?”

“In my defense, I also checked Jacob out.” Nora laughs and rubs a hand over her face. “I do that a lot. Sorry.”

“Staring is fine. I’m very used to that,” Miranda informs her. “Please don’t make me throw you into a wall for molestation, though.” Laughter fills the tiny room. Miranda goggles. _It wasn’t that funny._

Still cackling, Nora explains, “That kind of sentence has to have a story behind it. And don’t worry. I only checked you out once. I mean, every now and then I see you out of the corner of my eye and I’m like, darn, she’s hot, but that’s about it. No butt grabbage.” She leans forward, resting her arms on her knees, twinkle in her eye. “Can I ask who you threw into a wall?”

“Later, perhaps. What did Doctor Chakwas have to say about the poison you ingested?” Nora’s wrinkled nose answers a surprising amount of questions.

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed almost fuckin’ shoots the damn Commander when he turns around and she’s _right fuckin’ there_. Not on his heels, he doesn’t think the woman’s that goddamn dumb, but leaning against the chair at the security desk. “The hell’re you doing down here, Commander?”

“Getting to know you, Zaeed.” She pauses. He can’t suppress the grin cracking his face, and her frown grows to match. “That’s… not a sexual reference. I don’t — I’m sure you’re very skilled, but no. Is everybody going to think I’m hitting on them if I keep this up? I’m really not.”

Her facial expression prompts a good chuckle before he says anything else. “Just getting you riled up. So you wanna learn about Massani, eh? Scourge of the galaxy?” Nora opens her mouth, grimaces, and shuts it before nodding. “Got some of my mementos scattered around here. Pick one and I’ll tell you about it.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer. But first, you said Cerberus arranged something with you?” she asks, settling on the edge of the desk, legs crossed.

He tells her.

  
\- - -

  
When Nora walks into Mordin’s lab, coming from Jacob, she’s singing under her breath. It’s an old earth song, slow and sorrowful — for all that nobody has noticed, it fits her mood.

She doesn’t expect Mordin to join in. Breath fails her in shock. Her jaw drops. “You… sing well, Doctor Solus.”

“Yes, was part of chorus group. Commander also sings well. Clearly lacks training.” He hums and taps something on his array of tubes and… she doesn’t even know what to call them. “Pressing concerns?”

“Just stopping by to see how you were settling in.” Nora watches him flit about the lab. Every touch does something.

“Well. Good technology, well-equipped lab. Not as challenging due to equipment, but basic challenge far exceeds curing plague. Must synthesize…” And then his words babble off into a muttered string, too fast for her to understand.

“I’ll be back later, when you’re not so busy. Good luck.” With that, she can’t help bolting. The doctor is kind, odd, but he unnerves her. “EDI, is Garrus still up front with Joker?”

“Yes, Commander,” the voice overhead answers. Something else that unnerves her.

She steps into the cockpit just in time to hear Joker say, “…but did you have to start beating people with that stick when you got it out?”

“Are you harassing Garrus, Joker?” she asks, sauntering up and leaning on the back of his chair. Her favorite turian sprawls over the nearby co-pilot’s chair, dextro snack in hand. “He’s still weak, you know.”

Garrus’s mandibles just flare when he looks up at her. “Yes, very weak. Clearly I should have my food brought to me,” he drawls. Here, in the warm atmosphere of two old friends, Nora can breathe. It doesn’t feel like she shouldn’t exist. She doesn't want to lament that her body conquered the batarian's poison.

  
\- - -

  
Before they jump onto Korlus, Garrus has to readjust his rifles. It’s odd. His eye wasn’t affected by the rocket, but the bandages and tech in his face means his head leans differently now. Nora’s leaning back in her seat across the shuttle, eyes closed. With the way her head’s bobbing, he’s dead sure she’s got music going. Zaeed sits beside him, Ashley beside Nora.

And then, _then,_ he’s in battle again. Zaeed and Ashley charge in, blood curdling grins on their faces. Shepard stays in the middle, somewhere between him and the others. Spirits, he forgot how good this felt. It was good on Omega. But properly fighting alongside Shepard is glorious. Two shots in, he falls back into a rhythm. She hurls a warp, a throw, something — it inevitably either catches someone or they dodge. If they dodge, they’re off guard. He follows every biotic pulse with a perfect shot. Or her SMG comes out, bullets raking the soft sides of engineers and other biotics. It catches them by surprise when she toggles the pulses of energy with bullets.

It’s almost like she never — _no. Don’t think about that, Garrus_ , he chides himself. “Loudspeakers?” he mutters over the comms.

“Someone likes the sound of their voice,” Ashley sends back. The rattle of gunfire follows before the channel returns to the low thrum of Nora humming earth songs. Every now and then she’ll sing loud enough for a word or two to make his translator fire.

Room after room, the facility falls to them. And then they run into someone who doesn’t want to die. “Rana,” Garrus sighs when he sees her.

Straight off Rana starts babbling. Before any of them get a word in edgewise, they’ve learned about what she and Okeer are doing here, with a side of Jedore. “I died and came back,” Shepard murmurs. “I’m all about second chances. But finding you here… it makes me wonder if letting you go was a mistake.” Garrus glances over. The cybernetic rims to Nora’s eyes gleam red, something he’s noticed happens when she’s emotional. “You don’t want that.” And now the edge to her voice makes him shiver.

“Died — what —” Rana blinks and shakes her head. “Agreed. I’m staying far away from you!”

Nora turns to watch her flee. “Third chances…” Garrus mutters.

“I know.” Before he can blink, her gun’s up. _Pting!_ Rana doesn’t fall. She doesn’t even stumble.

“What —” both he and Zaeed start.

“Tracker. We’ll take care of her later.” She wiggles the tiny gun at him, and only now does he notice it’s not her pistol. “Remind me to thank Mordin. He repurposed some of Cerberus’s… attempts to keep an eye on me.” Then she grins. “Did you think my aim was that bad?”  
  
Garrus can’t help the nervous keen of his subharmonics. Zaeed stammers. Before either of them can do anything else, Nora’s crossed the room and begun peering over Ashley’s shoulder as she rewires the door.

“Fuckin’ hate women sometimes,” Zaeed grumbles after they speak to Okeer, tramping down yet more metal stairs. “Either be a goddamn woman, or be a goddamn soldier. Don’t go playing shitty woman games on me. Rhetorical questions. Bah!”

“I see someone hasn’t had much luck in the past,” Garrus remarks, amused.

The merc snarls at him. “I’m a ladies man, I’ll have you know, even after Vido blasted my damn face off.” And then he points his pistol straight at Garrus. “And no cracks about the face, either. You’re in the same boat as me.”

Garrus just shrugs and slides into cover as Zaeed tramps onward.

And when the opportunity to take the tank comes up, he glances at Nora. She glances at him. “I’m pretty sure Wrex would kick my ass if I _didn’t.”_ It’s almost a defensive tone. He just nods in reply.

  
\- - -

  
Ashley’s taken up residence in the shuttle bay during most of her waking hours. It reminds her of her place on the first Normandy. There’s no Mako. That’s _glorious._ Shepard couldn’t drive the thing for a million credits.

It’s quiet. She likes it. There are a few Cerberus operatives here and there, maintaining the shuttles, and so on. But for the most part, all she can hear is the quiet clicking and whirring of her cybernetics. Routine kicks in as she takes apart her armor and guns, cleaning them carefully before stowing them. Halfway through double-checking the medigel injectors in her breastplate, her new ear warns her of someone approaching. _Tapsssh, tapsssh_ — it’s Nora. All Ashley’s service time, and she’s never heard someone who walks quite like Nora. Turning, she watches the other woman approach. “Skipper.”

“Ash,” Nora responds, sliding onto the table in front of her. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding.” Ashley just raises an eyebrow and glances from her breastplate to Nora and then back again.

“Yes. Important work, here, that I can’t spare two minutes,” she cracks. “Somehow, I think my medigel injectors might survive.” Gently, she sets the breastplate next to her and leans forward, balancing her chin on her fist and her elbow on her knee. “I see you picked up some new clothes on Omega. When’d that happen?”

Silence. Nora blinks and brushes down the front of her shirt, though it’s already neatly pressed. “You were picking up the FKA couplings, I think?”

“They’re not —” Ashley just sighs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. What’s up?”

“Just checkin’ in. You know me.” Nora crosses her legs and grins. But the grin’s odd, a little more hollow than Ashley’s used to seeing. For now, she files the thought away and focuses. “But I do have a question.”

“Fire.” She turns and reaches for the breastplate. If it’s anything like their old Q&A sessions, then it’ll be a lot of technical questions she can answer with her eyes closed. Might as well get some work —

“Have you written to your family?” **THUNK.** Breastplate hits the bench, hard enough to send some of the circuits flying. All her nerves fire at once, and despite that, her fingers go numb. _Nothing_ races across her mind for a minute.

Spit flies from her mouth when she rounds on Nora, snarling. “And what the _**fuck** _ am I supposed to tell them?” Arms flying akimbo, she slides into mock charades. “Oh, hello, beloved sister! I know I was dead! But I’m not now. By the way, I’m a robot. Hope you don’t mind.” Nora doesn’t speak for a second, face blank. Ashley rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. “Yeah, that’s going to work really well.”

Ultimately, Nora’s blank face fails. She leans close, arm on one knee. “I don’t know what you can say. Deep cover. Mission went bad. Something.” Ashley watches. The commander looks away, lump in her throat working. “…I want you to have them back, Ash. My cat is the only person I know that'd miss me for sure. And he’s been dead since before basic. I know how much you loved them all.”

“Look, Nora. You’re —” Ahead of the sentence, Nora backflips off the table. Never mind that shouldn’t be possible, she does it.

“I’ll send you a message when we reach Purgatory,” the commander says, walking away. Ashley doesn’t really want to follow. She knows she should. But Nora’s always been a bit more idealistic than her. It’s not something she wants to deal with right now.

 

\- - -

  
Nora writes Liara another letter she doesn’t send. This one, she makes so short it’s laughable.

_Liara,_

_Do you miss me? Have you forgotten my name?_

  
\- - -

  
Jacob hums nonchalantly as they walk into the Purgatory. Nora walks just ahead, Ashley to her side, and Garrus to his left. Ashley seems nearly as nonchalant as he does, gun propped on her shoulder casually. “There a reason we’re taking half the ship with us?” he asks as they walk down the long corridor.

“Show of power, mostly. In case this recruit proves… unwieldy, we might need the extra firepower.” Nora taps the guns holstered on her hips.

Long hallway notwithstanding, they come to the proper entrance to the prison fairly quickly. Guards await. One, more heavily armored than the others, steps forward. “Welcome to the Purgatory, Commander. Your package is being prepped. We’ll be on our way now if you’ll go ahead and turn over your weapons.”

Jacob tenses, but doesn’t touch his weapon. Garrus, however, jerks to attention. The sniper rifle slides into his hand and he aims in the blink of an eye. Ashley taps her tongue against her teeth and pulls her shotgun from her shoulder for an ostentatious inspection. Nora seems relaxed, though he catches her hand drifting over to her SMG. “You can go to hell first,” the commander snorts. “I don’t relinquish my weapons. And even if I did, who says I need them to be dangerous?” Jacob glances over to find her teeth bared in a predatory smile, the kind krogan love.

“Stand down!” comes a voice from the door behind the guards. “I am Warden Kuril. This is my ship, and surrendering weapons is my standard procedure.” A turian enters, crossing his arms and standing behind the others. From where he stands, Jacob can tell he wears good armor.

He glances over and — _now_ the commander’s stiffened. “I see. And you have so many dead Spectres coming to pick up packages?” she drawls. “Nobody takes my guns. That’s _my_ standard procedure.”

After a minute, the warden sighs and shakes his head. “You are a Spectre. Proceed. Our facility is secure enough to handle a handful of armed guests.” Ashley holsters her shotgun and moves forward. Jacob follows. But Shepard hangs back. His hearing catches a few of the words she hisses to Vakarian — something about 'barefaced'. “Outprocessing is this way, Commander. Please follow me,” Kuril calls from the door.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus sighs. “Should have known this was going to go south.” He’s crouched behind a desk, sniper rifle propped on someone’s computer.

“Can’t say I didn’t expect something,” Nora calls back. She’s curled up _under_ a desk, aiming pulses of biotic power through the space at the bottom. Both Ashley and Jacob are up front, competing for the most kills.

“The great Commander Shepard, ambushed in a prison.” He chuckles before adding, “We need to get Jack out of cryo.”

“Yeah. And then we need to take care of this ship,” Nora mutters. Then he hears over the comms, _“Joker! EDI! Can you blow this place if I tell you to?”_

 _“It is an inadvisable course of action, Commander, but it is possible_ ,” the AI replies.

 _“If I think too many prisoners are getting loose, we might need it,”_ Shepard’s voice comes over the comm, tight and strained. Then she rolls out of cover and sprints towards the doors. Garrus follows, keeping his rifle steady, just in case. Seconds later, a FENRIS skids around the corner and charges. Waves of mechs and mercs follow it. Less than he expected for such a high security prison, really.

Once they enter the supermax, all that waits is a technician presiding over his consoles. He aims a gun, but — Jacob’s biotics punch a hole through him. He drops. Shepard steps over the body, ignores the bloody boots, fingers already tapping code sequences into the console. He can hear her muttering about Tali under her breath. “Watch out, Shepard. Hacking that… you’re going to open every door on the cell block,” Ashley warns. Nora’s careless shrug answers her.

“Almost in. Get ready!” Nora shouts. Despite the fact both doors into the room are locked, every gun goes up. Outside, massive robotic arms remove a cell. Air hisses out as it depressurizes, the cryo chemicals sliding back into their tubes. It unlocks.

Nora draws a breath. Garrus hisses, **“That’s** Jack?” He’d been expecting some gigantic muscle-bound _**male** _ hulk of humanity. In the cryo cell below, there’s only a slip of a girl. Even from here, he can almost pick out bones underneath the carpet of tattoos. He knows that’s unhealthy for humans.

Her body spasms. One arm breaks free — the other follows — and she pulls her bonds apart, blue biotics flickering around her fingers already. “Get that door open!” Nora barks. Jacob’s already working on it. Jack’s staggering now, hands on her head, as heavy mechs charge at her.

She charges at the mechs before they get to her. Biotics propel _her entire body_ through one mech, leaving it a pillar of smoke. The other doesn’t even get that dignity. It just slams into the wall and dies. When Jack disappears from sight, it’s only seconds before the complex shakes.

Garrus hears two things at once: Nora’s deep, shuddering breath, and the door sliding open. He’s never heard her breathing like that before, so he turns. Ashley beats him to speaking. “Calm down, Nora. Put your gay away for five minutes.”

And then Shepard _squeaks_. “Ashley!”

The robotic woman rolls her eyes. “What, like everyone doesn’t know you have a powerful woman fetish? I bet it takes a day before you’re hitting on her.”

“I — would never —” Nora stammers, her cheeks flushing bright red. “I like powerful men, too!” Garrus opens his mouth, confused. Two syllables later, Shepard spins on him, cheeks turning even redder. “Sorry. You saw Liara and I, but I still don’t know how you feel about —”

“I really don’t think Garrus is gonna give a damn about anybody being gay as hell,” Jacob calls. “Are we going or what?”

Nora sprints past Jacob, gun ready, cheeks burning. As she passes him, Garrus gets a noseful of something. It’s a strange scent, musky, a bit cloying… yet strangely familiar. As they slide into the tunnels, Ashley sidles up to him and whispers, “Watch her when she sees Jack. It’s going to be hilarious.”

 

\- - -

 

Chill slides through her skin as her eyes open. She expects a dozen heavily armed guards, Purgatory’s shitty lighting, and some fuckwit who ‘bought’ her. It’s still Purgatory, in all its shitty shittiness, but there’s no guard in sight. Only heavy mechs, not even activated, are in the room. Blood drips down the inside of her mouth when she grins, her lips cracking. F _orgot cryo’s hard on your skin_ , she muses. Experimentally, she sends a wave of power down her limbs. When the power slides through her like it always has, she almost splits her mouth open with her smile. _My restraints aren’t working!_

Cold steel gives way beneath her fingers. As the steel buckles and bends, the mechs rouse. “Pff. Not even a challenge?” she scoffs, licking her lips and trying to get her balance. Her amp seizes up for a second, but only just. Then it passes and her hands fall from her head. Biotic energy ripples over her body as she barrels forward. “God, that feels good!” she shouts, slamming the other mech into the wall.

Some of the guards try to stop her before they realize who she is. When she turns the corner to find a large group clustered under the lights, she wiggles her fingers in a saucy wave. A few shout, “Capture her!” and gunfire starts. More than a few swear and flee. That makes her giggle. So does the sound the biggest guard makes when his armor caves in with him inside.

Behind her, she can hear more gunfire. “Seriously? Do you guys even get paid enough for this?” Jack asks the nearest body. Then she narrows her eyes at it. “Did I already loot your body?” Obviously, the body doesn’t answer. “Eh, I don’t really care,” she decides before moving on.

Hallway after hallway, all full of guards looking to take her down. She recognizes too many of them. Dozens have kicked her around while her biotic-suppressing restraints were on. Part of her feels bad about what she’s doing. Most of her takes endless glee from it though. “After all, you never gave me a fucking chance, did you?” she shouts, finishing her train of thought. Shockwaves of energy ripple from her hands, along the floor. _Thudddthnkthnksquish_ — bodies slam into the walls and doors.

Gunfire behind her again. What sounds like someone shouting precedes the _swoosh **BOOM**_ of a grenade launcher. “What the hell got loose that they need a missile?” she grumbles. But she doesn’t stay to find out.

Two hallways later, she sees what she’s looking for. Every hallway leading to an airlock is lined with space-glass. Stars twinkle at her, almost taunting her with how close freedom is. “Only a room of LOKIs? Is this even supposed to be hard?” At the very least, the mechs offer a ready source of ammunition once they’re a crumbled heap of metal. Looting the last one of all its clips, she stands and loads her pilfered gun.

 **KRAKOOM!** comes from somewhere behind her. Somewhere far, far too close. Someone’s… cackling? “The fuck?” she mumbles to herself as she breaks into a run, aiming for that blessed glimpse of freedom. Metal pinches her through her boots as she sprints over the corpses of the mechs. Nothing stops her, though a couple guards attempt it as she dashes through the glass tube. They don’t even get a spare thought. And then she sees it.

Glass, stars, _freedom_ , and — wait, what? A ship? Outside, a huge fighter idles. It’s sleek, well-built, and prettier than she’s seen a lot of ships be. Or rather, it would be pretty if it wasn’t for that damn logo. “Son of a motherfucking krogan-loving asari whore!” she swears at the glass. Her hands reach for hair she hasn’t had in years. “You’re not taking me alive!” she shouts. Her body whirls, preparing to sprint away. A guard awaits, charging her like he really is krogan and _shit_ —

Armored and heavy, he still doesn’t make much noise when he hits the ground. But _it wasn’t her_. She pivots, body pulsing, ready to fight. When her brain processes her opponent, she’s not sure it’s necessary. Her mystery helper puts her gun away and tugs her helmet off, nodding to Jack in the first gesture of respect she’s seen in a long time. _Alliance gear, N7, not very big. Odd assassin_ , her brain muses. Then three others step up behind the woman. A turian, scarred and battle-worn, in badly broken armor stays right on the woman’s six. To her left, another woman stands. This one, Jack can’t help staring at. Almost half of her face is completely cybernetic, the eye whirling and whizzing as it focuses on her.

To her right — _fuck._ Cerberus uniform. “What the hell do you want?” Jack spits, stepping back. Farther away.

Red-armored-Alliance in the lead smiles. It’s soft, uncomplicated, and puts Jack on guard immediately. “Me? I’d start with a pony, a billion credits, and galactic peace. But for the moment, you’re in a bad situation. I want to help.”

Nostrils flaring, Jack can’t help her first reaction. “Shit, you sound like a pussy.” Her curiosity flares, though, when she sees the robot woman mutter something. Instantly, the N7 reaches back and smacks the taller woman on the head. But Jack doesn’t stop speaking. “I’m not going any-damn-where with you, _Cerberus.”_

What she expects is cajoling, pleading, and then a sleeping dart to whatever place presents itself. It’s not what she gets. Anger curls N7’s lips as the woman takes a single step forward and speaks. “No. No, I’m fucking _not_ Cerberus. My body’s Cerberus technology, down to my damn bones. Same for Ashley. Do you know why?” Clearly rhetorical. N7 doesn’t stop for a breath, let alone an answer. “Do you recognize me, Jack? Do you recognize the great Commander Shepard, paragon of humanity, savior of the Citadel?” And oh. OH. Now she does, yes, though it’s been forever since she’s seen a holo. Something’s different from the holo-version she saw. Shepard advances one more step. “You might not. Guess what? I’m supposed to be _dead._ Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams —” Shepard jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the woman — “died on Virmire, saving the galaxy. I died in the middle of _fucking nowhere._ Cerberus is the bunch of jackasses who couldn’t leave well enough alone and brought us back.”

Jack gets her breath back when Shepard stops to catch her own. “Right. You hate Cerberus. So you’re going to show up in a Cerberus frigate to take me away? That makes a whole goddamn lot of sense,” she scoffs.

Shepard rolls her eyes. “I’d prefer an Alliance one, personally. But if I showed up in Alliance territory, I’d probably be court martialed. I just don’t think that’s going to fit on my schedule, you see.” Then the woman stops and takes a deep breath. “Look, we’re here because we need your help. As a plus, we’re going to blow this place to kingdom come. The Normandy will be safe when that happens.”

“Just knock her out and patch her up later, Nora,” the turian grumbles.

That prompts a huge sigh from the commander. “We are not attacking someone we want to be friends with, Garrus. I don’t know how turians do it, but that’s the way to mess things up right away with humans.”

Rolling her eyes, Jack steps toward them. “Look, you want me, I want off this ship. But I want you to make it worth my while first.”

“Nora” smiles. It’s slow, and sly. It comes with insinuations Jack did _not_ expect from an Alliance commander. “Join my team. I’ll see what I can do for you,” the commander purrs. Behind her, the robot woman giggles.

Another eye-roll. Jack can see how this will go. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” For some reason, that brings a wicked grin to Cerberus boy’s face. “I want every file Cerberus has on me. And I bet you’ve got access.”

“Full access and a coffee to keep you awake,” Shepard replies, hand out.

Jack ignores the idea of the handshake. The acquiescence came so easily, _too_ easily. Instead, she charges straight up to Shepard and barks, “You better be straight up with me.”

This time, she’s close enough to hear the robot woman’s quiet remark and giggling. “Straight with you? She can’t be straight with anyone!” the woman sputters, just below her breath.

“I’ll be as honest as a salarian on a scientific expedition,” Shepard replies. “Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

Right away, Shepard spins on her heel and barks, “Williams! Behave yourself! Squad, move out!”

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed’s napping when his ear buzzes. _“There’s something out port-side observation deck you might wanna see_ ,” the commander’s voice tells him.

 _“Something interesting, huh_?” he replies. He’s already on the move.

 _“Just a ship full of Blue Suns and criminals getting what they deserve.”_ Then the comm clicks off.

It is a glorious view. And if he happens to stop by the med bay with a nice bottle of brandy for the doc… well, it was on the way, yeah?

  
\- - -

  
Mordin likes the commander. Smart, strange, clearly not recovered from resurrection, but does her best to be a good leader anyway. Cares about her subordinates. After they blow the Purgatory ship to bits, she comes to him. “Dr. Solus —” she starts.

He scoffs. “Mordin. May help put your insides back in at some point. You may help put mine back in. Formalities useless.” Though he doesn’t look at her, he can hear the low chuckle.

“Alright, Mordin. Have you had the chance to take a look at the tank-bred krogan in the cargo hold? I could use the firepower a krogan would bring to the crew, but…” Her hesitation tells him she knows the odds.

“Yes. Seems quite well-designed. Brain fully developed, organ system functions well, and no sign of mutations which could impair fighting ability.” He slides the cross-section of Collector swarm tissue into the cryo-storage and turns to face her. “Assume you know many tank-bred develop extreme mental instability.”

“I’m kind of an expert on mental instability,” Shepard replies dryly. “When I realized other races had mutations just like humans, I read everything I could get my hands on about non-human brains and disorders. I’m prepared to put him down if necessary.”

“Good. Unlikely, since neural tissue seems healthy, but impossible to ascertain.” Mordin leans forward, hands on the lab table. “Would like to attend when you wake him. Merely precaution. Will stay out of sight.”

Shepard shifts and pulls her hair over her shoulder. It’s exceptionally long compared to other humans, but seems to comfort her. As she speaks, her hands move through the strands. “That’s alright. I was planning to go down and wake him after I spoke to you, actually. But do stay out of sight. I don’t know what kind of programming he has regarding salarians.”

He nods.

  
\- - -

  
Waking Grunt goes without remark. He threatens her, she threatens him, and he joins her crew. Then she goes up to the CIC and gets berated by Miranda on her way there. “How could you have blown Purgatory up?” she demands.

Nora blinks at her and starts undoing her braid. “Well, you see, the Normandy has guns…”

Miranda rolls her eyes and interrupts. “Very funny. You know exactly what I mean, Commander!” she snaps.

“First, I don’t like being interrupted overmuch,” Nora murmurs, voice calm. “Second, I don’t see how it was much of a decision. What was I supposed to do? Let scads and scads of criminals, most insane, vengeful, and ready for murder, out into the galaxy?” She snorts. “Yeah, that’s a great idea.” When Miranda tries to speak again, Nora holds up a hand. “No. It’s done. There’s nothing else to be done for it.” She pauses and adds, “We’re on our way to the Citadel. I want to see you purchase a good suit of armor.”

“What? Why?” Miranda asks. Nora’s eyebrows flatten immediately.

“Really? You don’t know?” she sighs. “Here’s the thing. You went out in your bodysuit when I took you on missions. I highly doubt, however advanced Cerberus tech is, they’ve managed to fit an entire suit of armor into _that.”_ She gestures at the Cerberus-emblazoned white skinsuit. “Either you buy armor, or you don’t go into the field. Your choice.”

“This amplifies my biotic power —” the XO starts. Nora’s stare stops her.

“Do you forget I’m also a biotic? It might. But powerful biotics don’t do much for a hole in the gut.” She crosses her arms and raises both eyebrows. “I said it’s your choice. It’s just one choice ends up with you not going out. If you want to go out in the field, you buy armor. Those are orders, Lawson.”

Miranda sulks away. Nora watches her go, sighs, and slinks up to her cabin. There, she opens a line to Joker. “Set course for the place Cerberus wants us to investigate and find those doctors. I’m taking a nap.”

“Gotcha, boss.” The line cuts out. She crawls into her bed, curls in the blanket, and stares up into the stars.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt likes the ship. It’s business-like, even if it is full of squishy humans. And a turian. And a salarian. He doesn’t really care about those facts, but his imprints do. Every time he sees the turian, his brain reminds him, _Vakarian. Law enforcement family. Two generations ago, they led a C-Sec force against a group of krogans._ He shrugs it off.

The salarian provokes a worse response. His brain shrieks, _Traitor! Poisoner! Murderer of untold unborn!_ Honestly, whoever made his imprints was more than a little dramatic.

But Shepard — she’s alright. He can smell the biotics on her, enough of them that she’d be a battlemaster if she was krogan. After sitting in the cargo bay for a day, he moves down to the shuttle bay. Just in case. That way he can be there if Shepard decides to go into the field. He doesn’t realize it’s someone else’s haunt until they show up.

“Grunt, right?” comes a voice from the elevator doors as they slide open and discharge someone. He turns to find a human woman. “Didn’t get to meet you when Shepard brought you around to introduce you. I’ve been holed up, hiding from Nora.” She grins at him as she approaches, cybernetics pulling the skin on her face tight. “Turns out teasing the boss when you’re on a mission is bad for you. S’been long enough now I think I’m good. Former Alliance gunnery chief, Ashley Williams.” She sticks her hand out. He shakes it, assessing her.

“Nice shotgun,” he replies, eying the one in her hand.

“Hell yeah it is!” She swings it up, handle first, and displays it. “Nora let me shake down a merchant on Omega for some great mods. Or, well, she went elsewhere while I shook him down. Close enough. Gotta love the ones for extra ammo, right?”

  
\- - -

  
Hair brushed, hands and face washed, neat outfit that hasn’t spent days on her floor in a pile — Nora procrastinates going down to see Jack. Clearly the girl has issues. Enough of them to make even Nora take a step back. But she’s… Air whooshes out of Nora as she remembers the way Jack destroyed those mechs. “Can I not just be a normal human who salivates over other normal humans?” she asks her mirror.

Eventually, she sighs and exits the bathroom. Clean shirts, neatly folded, sit on her desk. She picks them up on her way out. Suddenly, the short elevator ride down to the engineering deck seems interminably long. “It’s like I’m on the Citadel again,” she mumbles to herself. The click and hiss of the doors opening still comes too soon. She greets the engineers with a calm smile, hands over a paper book she promised them, and goes down to the depths of the engine room.

“Hi,” she greets Jack. Before any reply can come, she promptly begins babbling. “I, uh, I don’t know if you needed a shirt or not. I’d be really cold, personally, but I know my style isn’t for everyone. But I brought some shirts down in case you wanted to wear one, just, you know, until we get to the Citadel and you can get some more.” As she speaks, words tumbling over each other and almost stuttering, Jack’s neutral expression shifts into one of amusement. “But you don’t have to! If you’re comfortable that way, I’m perfectly fine with it. Whatever you’re happy with, really!”

“Damn, calm the hell down, Shepard,” Jack finally stops her. “You always run on like that? Sounds like you had too much coffee.”

“Sorry. I, uh… long story.” She makes to brush hair from her face and almost hits herself with the handful of shirts. All her neat folding has gone to waste. They’re horribly crumpled by her tight grasp now. “Did you — uh —” She just waves the handful of shirts in Jack’s direction, face burning. “Want one?”

Jack stands and stretches, amused smirk on her lips. “Yeah, actually. I wasn’t going to say anything, ‘cause I don’t give a shit about who sees my tits, but I don’t usually go around like this. When I got captured last time, it was after a wild night. Person that took me home shredded my shirt and I didn’t have the chance to replace it before getting mobbed.” Nora steps close enough to drop the shirts in Jack’s arms and steps away quickly. The other woman dumps the shirts on her seat and sorts through them.

"Does that mean you would have wandered around like that the whole time if I hadn't said anything?" she asks, watching Jack sort.

“Like I said, I don't give a shit. Tits are tits." Silence, and then, "…well, alright,” Jacksays after a minute.

“Is — are the shirts not to your taste?” Nora asks, hesitant. Jack turns around, one in her hands, and laughs.

“Not really, but that’s not the problem.” The shirt, one of Nora’s smaller t-shirts, goes on over her head with a _very_ distracting shimmy. “This is.” Though clean and plain, the grey shirt’s unbelievably baggy, almost swallowing Jack’s upper body and most of her hips. Jack glances down and laughs again, low and throaty. “Damn. I didn’t think I was that small.”

Nora coughs into her fist and looks away. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t take that into calculation. My fault. I’m… kind of…” She gestures toward her upper body, trying to phrase it delicately enough for such a new acquaintance.

“Your tits are fucking huge,” Jack fills in for her. Nora can’t help squeaking. “What? You can see ‘em at 50 paces. Probably 100.”

“I — er —” Nora scrabbles for a minute and then blurts, desperate to change the topic, “How are you settling in? Are you sure you don’t want somewhere nicer? Also, uh, we can spend Cerberus money on armor for you!” When Jack smirks, she sighs. _I let her know how to get to me_ , she laments. From there, most of the conversation centers on Cerberus. It ends with Jack walking away, dismissive and clearly done. All of Nora’s energy gets taken up by trying not to bolt.

  
\- - -

  
Everyone floods onto the Citadel when they finally dock, after adventuring through what feels like dozens of systems in search of information for Cerberus. Garrus and Ashley stick by Shepard’s side, though. “Really? You’re not mad at me after I made you ride in the Hammerhead?” she asks them as they disembark from the shuttle.

Ashley’s snort answers before Garrus can, though he speaks anyway. “Your driving skills have improved. We only threw up twice. Besides, what kind of crew would we be if we let our commander go into hostile territory alone?” he teases. She smiles at them and bumps her shoulder against his arm. With Ashley, she… bounces her hip off the other woman’s? _I will never understand human culture_ , he despairs as they enter C-Sec.

“We picking up that… whoever… the Illusive Man sent us the dossier on?” Ashley asks, once the mix-up with Shepard’s death has been cleared up. Bailey took one look at Ashley and had a coughing fit. After that, he modified her files to reflect her new status.

“Shopping first,” Nora replies. Garrus groans when she cracks her fingers and gleefully rubs her hands together.

“Why did I want to stick with you again?” he mumbles.

“Duty, commander, blah, blah.” As they move through the Citadel’s crowds, she wonders out loud, “Are people really that gullible?”

“As gullible as what?” Ashley asks, popping her gum again. “I’m sure all of us have examples.”

Garrus casts an eye down over the two women. Shepard’s rolling her eyes. “Well, apparently popular rumor has it I never died. My memorial ceremony was a fake so I could go into deep cover. Will people actually believe that?”

“If I didn’t know better, maybe,” he rumbles. “After all, everyone knows how dedicated you are to your work.”

Nora outright laughs at him. “Me, an infiltrator? I’m way too obvious. They tried to train me that way when I joined the Alliance. I was small and nimble, they said, so it was a good choice. After the fifteenth tactical cloak got ruined, they gave up. Deep cover wouldn’t be any better. I’m too easily recognized now, even with face mods and holos.”

Then they come to a store. One of Garrus’s favorites, actually — lots of sniper mods, and good sales. He’s poring over a new scope when something drops into the back of his cowl with a **thunk.** Startled, he whips around and reaches for the rifle he left on the Normandy. “Nora!” he scolds in a whisper, for that’s who stands behind him. Her innocent expression doesn’t fool him a bit. “Don’t sneak up on me. And what did you drop in my suit?”

“I didn’t sneak up. I was perfectly loud,” she retorts. “And that is our largest Cerberus credit chit. While Ashley and I finish up here, you are going to go find a new set of armor.”

“This armor is —” She thumps her fist against his chest. Something clinks and rattles inside the armor. “Alright, so it’s a bit banged up. Still perfectly serviceable.”

“Yes. The first Normandy was also perfectly serviceable until the Collectors blew us to hell,” she states, crossing her arms. “Go get new armor.”

He sulks out of the store obediently. Jack crosses his path on the way there, crate from the armor store under one arm. He meets Miranda coming out of the store, obvious displeasure on her face. That particular expression puts him in mind of Solana after he ruined her breakfast every day for a week.

  
\- - -

  
Jacob meets someone just outside the entrance to the Keeper’s main maintenance tunnels. To an unwary observer, it looks like he’s just checking the Citadel map on his omnitool. “Sir,” he greets them. It takes every bit of his willpower to keep from following it with a crisp salute.

“What do you have for me?” the man asks, remaining in his seat. It’s impossible to see his face in the shadows.

“Our progress is surprisingly fast, sir. Shepard’s recruited almost a half-dozen people already. All of them are specialists in various areas of combat. I don’t think I’d want to go up against any of them, sir, honestly.” He waits for another question, muscles still tense.

“Tell me a little about them.”

“Our most recent acquisition was a tank-bred krogan. We’ve not gotten to see much of him in battle yet, but he’s certainly a krogan. We also have a very powerful biotic acquired from the prison ship Purgatory. Jack. You may have records on her, sir. We also have an ex-STG salarian scientist, Garrus Vakarian, and a very seasoned mercenary. We should be adding an almost legendary thief to our numbers while we’re here, if all goes well.”

“Vakarian. Hm. Interesting. Send me their basic files via public terminal when you get a chance. Anything on the other item?”

“No, sir. He’s extremely… well, illusive.”

“Very well.” Jacob knows that’s the cut-off, and walks away, doing his best to look absorbed in his omnitool. (He really isn’t sure where the food warehouses are. It’s not much of an act.) “Why did she delegate this to me and not Miranda again?” he wonders, wandering down into the factory district.

\- - -

Nora lets the others float around on the Citadel while she goes and speaks to Anderson. She comes back as a true Spectre.

Most of her wishes she hadn’t gone to the offices. Seeing Anderson makes her think of when things were simpler, easier, when she was just Commander Shepard under Captain Anderson, doing her job. When Kaidan and Jenkins were her ground team, and there were only colonists on Eden Prime instead of geth and death. And the memorial in front of the human offices...

It makes her think of how 2183 was supposed to be her last year in active service. It would have been, one way or another, without Cerberus meddling. “I was so close,” she whispers to the water in the Presidium, leaning over one of the railings. Water laps against the walkways.

She closes her eyes and wishes she could fall.


	4. A Point in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties, paralysis, and long-lost people, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers Kasumi's loyalty mission and Horizon. More suicidal ideation. Also, descriptions of sensory deprivation. 
> 
> The end of this chapter will, I think, make it fairly clear what the endgame pairing will probably be, so I'm adding it to tags.

Once they return to the Normandy, Ashley goes down to the shuttle bay and paces. Grunt watches her for a minute before returning to the shotgun Nora had delivered for him.

“If I don’t say anything, she won’t. She hates fighting with people,” she mutters beneath her breath. “And she’s right, I should talk to my family but — **ugh!”** Back and forth, back and forth, until she makes her mind up.

  
\- - -

  
Another letter to Liara, one she won’t send.

_Liara,_

_I wish Cerberus had left well enough alone. I wish I was still dead._

_You know, you saw it in my mind, that I wanted to leave the Alliance. Not because of anything they had done, but because I have always wanted to do more than make war. Originally, I planned to leave after Akuze. And then my unit died, and my love stood at the forefront of the battle. What else could I do but continue on? And then there was the mission to Eden Prime, and I dearly wish I could have left the job of Spectre where it lay. But duties must be done._

_I do not know myself now, Liara. Always, I was a creature of extremes. But now — I find myself furious one day, and unable to muster feeling the next. It takes every bit of effort I can muster to go about my life. Duty. Duty. Duty. I must. I cannot even bring myself to think of finding a diversion, something to mollify this awful mess in my head._

_You always gave such good hugs. I miss y_

“Commander, Officer Williams is requesting entrance to your cabin,” EDI’s voice comes from above her head. Nora almost falls from her chair, startled.

“I — oh — let her in,” Nora sighs. She stands and pulls the hair tie from the bottom of her braid. As she fingercombs it loose, her door slide open to admit Ashley. “Hi, Ash —”

“I’m sorry,” Ashley blurts, not meeting her eyes. “Objectively, I know I need to talk to my family. But I’m… look at me. I’m a cyborg. That’s the kindest word for me. And…” Fingers sinking into her hair, she continues, “I don’t… I haven’t told you. But I remember some of what I did before… before you came for me.”

Nora inhales sharply and drops the hair tie. Quick steps take her to where Ashley stands. “I didn’t realize. I thought you said it was all a blur?”

“It is, mostly. But I remember enough.” She looks up and meets Nora’s eyes. “Gunfire. Shooting down people without weapons. Screaming.” Her eyes flutter shut. “I only remember one thing clearly. Someone said, ‘scrub her before you put her back.’” Laughter, brittle and jagged-edged, spills from her. “Like a knife, only more troublesome.”

“If that station was still intact, I’d go back and blow it up,” Nora mutters. Then she wraps her arms around Ashley and buries her head in the other woman’s neck. Somehow, Ashley didn’t expect it by the way she jumps. “I’m sorry, Ash. You should have said something.”

Her head drops, forehead resting on top of Nora’s head, as she whispers, “How can I talk to my family when I’m like this? Not just a robotic abomination, but one who…” Nora feels Ashley’s throat moving as she swallows before continuing. “I’ve probably murdered innocent people, and I can’t even remember it.”

“You’re still Ashley Williams, dumbass,” Nora sighs. “Still the same woman who told Mr. Bhatia how much his wife loved him, same woman who survived Eden Prime…” Her grip tightens as she whispers, “The same woman who was willing to die to make sure we won.” After a moment of silence, she pulls away and looks up at Ashley. “I’m still sorry I left you behind.”

“I told you to,” Ashley says, little smile tugging at her lips. “I thought… well, now it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

Nora snaps her fingers. “That reminds me. They were… you were awarded medals by both the salarians and the turians. I kept them in my cabin on the old Normandy.”

Ashley blinks at her. “Really?”

“Why would I lie about that?” All she gets in reply is a shrug. “But… I looked into something while I was on the Citadel for you.” She pivots and steps over to her terminal, closing out the message. “I got a referral to someone on Ilium who grows skin for prosthetics. Or something. I’m not sure exactly how it happens, I just know it’s sciencey and organic. I put in an order.” When she turns and taps the screen to show Ashley, she can barely contain her grin. “It’ll be ready in about a week.”

Of all the things she expects, seeing tears in Ashley’s good eye is not one.

  
\- - -

  
Ashley leaves Shepard’s cabin an hour later. Outside, the newest addition to the crew leans against the wall. Despite being on ship, she still wears her cowl and armor. Ashley just sighs and nods to her.

From there, she goes straight to the med bay. The doctor’s sitting, working on something Ashley doesn’t bother paying attention to. “Hey, doc. Got a minute?” she asks, leaning back on one of the tables.

“Of course, Ashley. What is it?” Karin asks, chair swiveling towards her.

It takes a minute for Ashley to gather her thoughts, even after the extra time the elevator gave her. “The commander… have you been paying attention to her…” She flops her hand in the air uselessly, trying to find the word. “I went to see her in her cabin, and she was in her sleeping clothes. Has she lost weight since being, you know, brought back from the dead? I mean, she’s never been really big. More biotics than muscle. But…” she trails off, looking at the doctor.

Chakwas stands. “It’s hard to be sure, honestly. Her body weighs far more on its own now than it used to. There’s metal in her bones, all sorts of extra implants…” She picks up a holo. After a moment of tapping, she hands it to Ashley. “Here. This is the scan I took. Everything in green is her natural body. Everything else…”

For a minute, Ashley forgets how to breathe. “Does my body look like this?” she demands. More than 60% of Shepard’s body seems to be new.

“No.” Karin reaches over and taps a couple of times. “This is yours. Most of your body was intact. I’m not sure how… but it was. Shepard’s body not only suffered from being spaced, but then went through the atmosphere of a planet and crash-landed. Or so I am told.” Karin sniffs. “I’m not certain Miss Lawson has given me all of the information she’s decrypted from Project Lazarus.”

Ashley’s eye narrows. “I see.”

“But that being said, I’m having a harder time tracking Shepard’s general health than I used to. Her scars are still healing, the implants have changed her body, and…” She hesitates. “Well. The commander has a… previously known problem with mental illness. I’m not sure it hasn’t returned.” The doctor gently removes the holo from Ashley’s hands. “May I ask what brought this on?”

“I saw her out of her armor, outside of her usual ship clothes. She’s not skin and bones, but she could be a hell of a lot better off.”

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi eyes the commander as she sits down. The cabin’s floor has a half-dozen outfits on it, not including the sweatstained undersuits. Hardly what she expected from the Alliance’s most recent hero. “So… that thing I mentioned…”

“Cerberus seems very good at making deals without telling me,” Shepard grouses. She’s bent over her desk, looking for something. “I apologize. You’re not the first person who said they were promised something.”

“Well, mine’s not anything big. I just need someone to help me sneak into a high-society party and steal something,” Kasumi mutters. She almost laughs when Shepard comes up from her desk like a jack-in-the-box. _Boing_! she adds in her head.

“You _what?”_ Shepard demands, sliding around the desk and stopping in front of her. “Because I’m a lot of things, but a lawbreaker without remorse is not on the list.”

“It’s… well.” Kasumi hesitates. But the picture of the commander’s well-known romantic partner, still sitting on her desk, decides it. Three sentences in, the commander sits down. Halfway through, she gets up and retrieves a bottle of wine from under her desk. When Kasumi finishes, she hands her a glass and sits back down.

“And your plan?” Shepard asks, setting the bottle down and leaning back in her seat. More explanation, more talking — she’s glad for the wine. When she’s finally done, Shepard shakes her head. “He’s going to expect you to make an attempt. Do you think you can get in without going in the front door?”

“Of course!” she sputters, almost offended. “They don’t call me a master without reason.”

“Good.” Now Shepard leans forward, elbows on her knees. “Get in that way. I’ll go in on my own and take Ashley with me. It’s very obvious she’s not… well, you. I can pass her off as an advanced android bodyguard. From there, things can go just like you said. But this starts us out with less suspicion from Hock.”

A little smile, very little, comes to Kasumi’s lips unbidden. “Alright. Then we just need a dress.” She stands and stretches. “I’ll just run out and pick one up —” Shepard’s laugh cuts her short.

“Sorry, that was… a little rude,” the commander says a minute later. “There’s no such thing as ‘just picking up’ formalwear for me. Normal clothing, I can fudge on by going up a couple sizes. But…” she shrugs. “Don’t worry. I have a place in mind. We’ll go out later.” And then she stands and turns away. It’s clearly a dismissal, so Kasumi dismisses herself. But before she can, Shepard speaks again. “I have a favor to ask, I think. But I’ll ask later.” Kasumi doesn’t waste time leaving after that.

And she starts hacking the commander’s terminal as soon as she’s back in her spot in the lounge.

 

\- - -

 

When the elevator doors slide open, Garrus expects the shuttle bay. He _does_ get the shuttle bay. But it’s far, far more full than he expected. Jacob, Zaeed, Miranda, Jack, Joker, Chambers — even Chakwas and the chef! — all stand in the bay. More press about the edges, ones he doesn’t know the names of. “…did I miss a memo?”

“Garrus! Come to see the commander off, huh?” Joker asks, grin firmly in place.

“And to check the weapons stash, but yes,” he replies, crossing the bay to that ridiculous statue. “What’s your excuse?”

Miranda laughs, very quietly. “I’m curious to see how the commander disguises herself. And I believe most of the male humans here wish to see —”

Zaeed cuts in. “Commander’s gettin’ all prissed up. Oughtta be worth seein’, right?”

As if on cue, the elevator door hisses open. Garrus glances over his shoulder. It’s Ashley, brushing off her black dress and making disgusted faces. “Is the clothing really necessary?” she asks, craning her head over her shoulder. “I mean, you spent way too many credits on that dress.”

Goto’s voice slides past his ears. He’s never heard a human have a voice like oil before, but somehow she manages. “The other option would be a deep cover mission where we disguised ourselves as servants. We don’t have the time for that.”

“…is there a reason the entire crew of the Normandy is in the shuttle bay?” he hears Shepard ask, just as he kneels to check the catches on the secret compartment. “The only people missing are Mordin and — oh. There he is. Hi, Garrus!” she calls. He glances up to see her leaning on the consoles. From here, she doesn’t look much like the Nora he knows. Her hair’s dark red, more like human blood than anything. In his time at C-Sec, he got used to humans and asari both wearing makeup. Even with that, he’s not used to seeing Nora with dramatic lines from her eyes like warpaint and lips painted just as dark as her hair.

“Shepard,” he greets her and stands. She grins at him and turns to face the rest of the shuttle bay. It’s a good thing she did. When his eyes land on her body, he loses his breath. Standard enough for human clothing, despite the shimmer, yes. But Shepard’s waist seems almost turian in its waspishness.

“…go! Shoo! You have duties!” he faintly hears her voice filter back into his mind before she turns back to face him. “Everything look good, or will we blow ourselves up with our weapons because of the planet’s pressurization?” she jokes.

He has to try very hard to ignore the way her elbows jut from her body, and the pointed lines of bones just beneath her neck. “I, uh, yes. Everything’s in good shape.” She slides past him, Ashley following. Despite not seeing her, he’s sure Goto is already on the shuttle. “Good luck, Shepard.”

She nods at him and grins as the shuttle door closes.

  
\- - -

  
“I must say, I do like your little boutique,” Kasumi murmurs. “Very tasteful.”

“I could have done without getting squeezed into a dress I needed a corset for,” Shepard complains. “Why couldn’t I just go with black and match Ashley again? She looks a lot less tacky than I do!”

“Gold dresses aren’t tacky, Nora dear.” Kasumi taps buttons and takes them in for the descent. “Ashley’s dress is nice. But yours is _stunning._ And you need to keep Hock distracted tonight, so that’s what you need to be.”

Shepard slumps in her seat and grumbles quietly. When her voice fades, Kasumi can’t help glancing over. It is an ostentatious dress. But it fits Shepard’s new persona perfectly. Short, glittering, and lowcut — Hock won’t be able to look away. _And then I’ll get the last piece of you back, Keiji_ , she vows.

“I have to say, Commander, I didn’t know you could do makeup,” Ashley’s voice comes from the back seat. “I mean, you wear some all the time. But I don’t even know what to call whatever’s on your face right now.”

Nora grumbles more before she answers. “It’s old-fashioned makeup. I’m channeling antique Earth Hollywood stars, okay? Hence the curls and the _boing.”_

Kasumi and Ashley snort in unison. “Yes, there’s certainly no lack of… boing,” Kasumi murmurs. “Get all your giggles out while you can. You’re an emotionless robot now.”

  
\- - -

  
Donovan Hock expects a lot of things from his party.

He does expect that thief to try and recover what he took. It’s part of why he invited so many small-time mercs, along with his richest friends. He wants to mock her, to let people know what happens when they defy him.

Merc after merc comes in the door. Almost too late to enter, the last of the ships he doesn’t recognize docks. His eyes track the descent and he can’t help yawning at the thought of greeting yet more. Then the pilot emerges and he almost chokes on his tongue. Gold glitters in the low evening light as the pilot saunters toward him. When she stops in front of him, he can’t help his reaction. “Am I to assume you are the man of the hour?” she purrs, dragging one pale hand through dark red hair.

“Donovan Hock, at your service,” he responds, eyes firmly fixed on her cleavage. “And who, might I ask, do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Alison Gunn. Such a pleasure to meet you, good sir.” He finally drags his eyes up to her face. Her smile’s wicked. “I would like to apologize in advance for the appearance of my bodyguard, though.”

“Your… ah.” He scans the person behind her. “I see.” Clearly visible cybernetics, emotionless face, and absolutely no knowledge of how to hold her body? _Android,_ he hums to himself.

“We had a little scuffle last week. I haven’t been able to get to my supplier of cybernetic skin since then.” She pouts, and he’s lost. “She’s such a good bodyguard, though! I had them make her look like the hero of Virmire. It gets me into so many places!”

He leads her inside. The scanners buzz at her when she walks through, but he almost forgives her when her blush spreads down her neck. “I, uh… promise not to tell?” she asks both him and the guard manning the scanner. “It’s not my natural hair color.”

He laughs. “Your secret is safe here.”

Scant hours later, he relives the evening. How could she have been in league with the thief? Why didn’t he see through her artifice?

Everything had gone swimmingly. Miss Gunn had flitted about, admiring art, sipping wine. Her bodyguard had been a bit of a hassle, but nothing unusual. Once he had gone to drop his arm across Alison’s waist. The android had blocked and stepped in between them. “You are within Miss Gunn’s personal space. Please remove yourself,” it had droned. The voice was eerily similar to the Hero of Virmire’s, but still annoying.

“Oh, sorry!” Alison had laughed. “Ashley, reset defense perimeter for unarmed units. Unarmed units allowed within ten feet.”

“Of course,” the thing had droned and stepped away. Another time, he’d found the bodyguard standing in front of one of his security officers, arms akimbo as it demanded the guard surrender weapons. Again, Alison had appeared out of nowhere and told it to reprogram itself.

_K-krk!_ Windshield shattering is followed by a guttural yell and a thunk. Clearly, the android hadn’t been an android. It balances on the nose of his gunship, fierce smile on her face. “Nobody gropes Commander Shepard and gets away with it, asshole!” she shouts over the roar of the wind. Then a grenade tinks to the cockpit floor. She jumps away. From here, he can see the blue-purple shimmer of a biotic field catching her. Seconds later, another explosion rocks the ship. The grenade follows.

“I thought Shepard was dead,” he whispers to his control panel as the ship spirals. He can’t feel his legs.

_Fssssh —_

Something ignites.

  
\- - -

  
Joker’s come to expect the unusual around Shepard.

But Shepard hasn’t even returned from the party when EDI suddenly says, “The Illusive Man needs to speak with Shepard.”

“What? But Shepard’s —” Joker starts.

“Opening a communications link to the commander.”

“Shit! EDI, no! She’s undercover!” The link’s already open. Gunfire echoes through it. “Well, she was.”

“Commander, the Illusive Man needs to speak with you immediately.”

  
\- - -

  
Mordin’s already tinkering away when Shepard strides into the room, dark eyes hard. “Tell me you have something.”

“I do. Miss Lawson gave me advance warning. Will have anti-Collector countermeasures installed into five hardsuits by the time we reach Horizon.” He gestures at Miranda, who sits at one of his chairs. “Assumed you will be taking Garrus and Ashley. Have begun installation already.”

_Clunk_! Her breastplate falls to the floor as she strips down to her undersuit. “Here’s mine. I’ll have the others bring their armor to you immediately. Good work, Mordin.” She grins, relief clear in her expression. “I knew I could count on you.” As soon as the last piece of armor comes off, she breaks into a sprint. The doors barely open in time for her.

  
\- - -

  
Karin stops Ashley on her way to drop off armor to Mordin. “You were right. It may be the new implants, but…”

Ashley sets her jaw and continues on.

  
\- - -

  
“Damn, Shepard, you’re packing a hell of a lot of heat,” is the first thing Jacob hears when the elevator opens to the shuttle bay. Jack sits on the consoles, arms splayed despite being at rest. Shepard stands not far away, settling the last of her weapons into place. Ashley stands beside her, apparently trying to decide between the grenade launcher and the rocket launcher.

“We’ve never fought Collectors before. Hate to get there and realize I didn’t bring enough guns,” Nora replies. Jacob sidles over to the weapons locker and starts loading up, but keeps an eye on the girls.

“Shame I’m not going with you,” Jack sing-songs. Shepard glances up from her favorite SMG and snorts.

“I’d rather test your group capabilities on something other than a colony full of gigantic sapient bugs that’ll kidnap you if you get knocked out.” The commander crosses her arms and frowns. “Nothing personal. If Mordin could have installed the countermeasures into everyone’s suits, I’d be taking everyone and their brother.” She pauses and winces before adding, “Okay, no brothers.”

“Something tells me there’s a story behind that,” Jacob throws out, double-checking the firing mechanisms on his own favorite gun.

“Isn’t there always?” Behind Shepard’s words, the hiss of the elevator door reaches his ears. Grunt exits, Garrus on his tail. They both clutch their weapons already, Grunt holding his shotgun with almost feverish glee. After a second, Jacob realizes Garrus is… not in his armor from the waist up. Shepard, turning to greet them, catches it before he does. “Is there a reason you’re going into the field naked, Vakarian?” she snips. (But Jacob catches the way her eyes rake over the turian, and reminds himself to throw a couple credits into the betting pool Joker has going.)

“Only mostly naked, Shepard,” Garrus answers with a laugh. “They didn’t realize I bought a new chestpiece. I would have just worn the old one, since that’s where they installed it, but —”

“Aaand you would’ve been benched,” Nora sighs. “I shouldn’t have taken you on the missions I did in that.” Just then, the elevator opens again and spits out Miranda, arms full of armor.

“Here you are, Garrus.” Miranda drops it into his arms and immediately pivots on Shepard. “Be _careful._ And —”

“We’ll be fine, Miranda,” Nora murmurs, voice more gentle than Jacob’s ever heard it. “Why do you think I’m only taking one person who’s fully human? They don’t want turians or krogan, and Ashley and I are both more robot than human at this point. If they try to take Jacob…” she turns and eyes him. “Eh, no big loss.”

“Commander?!” he sputters, choking on the words. Miranda’s laugh rings out, followed by Shepard’s own giggling.

“Sorry, Jacob. Had to break the tension,” Nora apologizes, still chuckling. Seconds later, the amused face disappears, smoothly sliding into what he’s learned is her command face. “If everyone’s equipped, we need to move out!”

 

\- - -

 

  
“RRAAAAUGH!” Battle, finally! The real kind! Grunt slams a new heatsink into his shotgun and charges, barreling into one of those giant damn bugs head on.

Behind him, Ashley roars, “Eat shotgun, fuckers!” as her last round explodes a head. Then she’s beside him, slamming her shotgun into another head before she switches her heatsink. Farther back, he can hear the rattle of the soldier’s assault rifle and the steady report of the sniper rifle.

“Ash! Grunt! Duck!” the commander shouts. Instead of just ducking, Grunt steps away for added safety. Just as his foot lands, energy rips past him in a shockwave. Every Collector in front of him stumbles. Some lose their balance entirely. Shepard follows the attack, body pulsing with biotic blue-purple. Something snarled and unhappy falls from her lips, in a human language his translator doesn’t know.

Her fist through a Collector’s torso gives him a good idea of what it was, though. “Worthy!” he bellows at her. She turns a fierce grin on him, more krogan than human. He returns it and charges, bellowing, “I AM KROGAAAAN!”

  
\- - -

  
Of everything Ashley expected, it was not this. Horizon echoes with their footsteps and the buzz of the swarms. The possibility the countermeasures might not work… It’s not comforting. Less comforting, though, is how empty the colony already seems. Only Collectors remain, so far. Ashley can’t help picturing the vids she’s seen of colonies after slaver raids. At least there was blood left behind then. Here, there’s not even that.

After she turns a corner and nearly steps into a husk’s skull, she mumbles, “Fuck, I preferred it empty.” Nora squats beside the body, Garrus leaning down behind her. None of their words filter into her thoughts as she stares down the husk. It sends her back to Eden Prime and the struggle against Saren and fucking Virmire. She didn’t mind death, it was a good death, but the husks _the husks the husks something about them makes her bones **a c h e**_

“…Ash?” Nora’s voice suddenly bursts in her ear. “You okay?” Defensively, she jumps back and swings her shotgun up. Nora’s right beside her, dark gaze intense.

“Sorry. Just… ugh. Makes me think of… well.” She gestures at the husk and tries not to picture those cursed spikes.

Nora winces. “Yeah. Me too.” She shakes her head and Ashley follows suit, hoping to shake the thoughts from her mind. It doesn’t work particularly well, but there’s no time to linger. Shepard leads on.

More Collectors come, and quickly. This time, husks charge into battle as well alongside massive, mutated… things. Ashley takes vicious pleasure in shooting them down.

  
\- - -

  
“Ugh,” Garrus groans as he accidentally steps into Collector guts. “Charming place.” Ahead, Nora scoops to pick up a strange weapon one of them held.

“What were you expecting? Fields of gold? Parsley, sage, rosemary and thy —” Nora asks, turning her head to catch his eye. That means he sees the Collectors first.

_“Duck!”_ he shouts. Grunt and Ashley hit the ground instantly. Nora stumbles, goes into a roll, and comes back up too soon. “Shit! Shepard, watch out!” he shrieks, way too many emotions going into his subharmonics. He’s closest, so he lunges for her legs. It knocks her flat, knocks the breath out of her, but the massive energy beam misses.

“Ouch,” Shepard groans as she pushes herself to her knees and shuffles into cover. “Next time you want to play full contact football, let me know first, Garrus.” He chuckles and stays down, using the distraction of Grunt charging in to pick off a Collector. And then, as if Shepard almost getting killed wasn’t enough — one of the Collectors starts glowing. Light ripples out from the body, carrying enough energy in them to throw off his gun’s auto-targetting. (It’s a good thing he never uses it.)

“Our power is unmatched,” it **speaks.** Garrus stops firing for a second, stunned. But just a second. Then he goes back to placing careful shots into Collector heads. It calls to the others, “Preserve Shepard’s body, if you can.”

When he glances over, Shepard’s eyebrows communicate extreme anger. “Preserve this, asswipe!” she shouts, biotic energy pouring from her fingers. It warps across the battlefield and slams into That Thing, making it stumble.

“We are the beginning. You are the end,” it intones, firing biotic energy of its own back at her. “Hope is irrelevant.”

Finally, he hears Ashley’s voice coming from the other end of the battlefield. “Oh, **fuck off**!” she roars, bodyslamming it. She fires two shots into its head, point blank, and Grunt promptly tramples it underfoot.

“God bless you, Ash,” Nora sighs. “Check the bodies for anything useful. Then we move on.”

And so they do. Yet, scant moments later, they find another group of Collectors. Another swells and bursts with light, peppering them with morbid catchphrases. Those don’t bother Garrus. What bothers him is hearing them say, “You cannot stop us, Shepard,” and, “If I must, Shepard, I will tear you apart.”

Nora, despite herself, lets the thing get to her. He sees it in the line of her mouth. And then, when that one falls, another swells and bursts. This one calls, “Shepard, you could have been useful.” Her shoulders hitch up and her next pulse of energy goes wide. All the while, she tinkers with the Collector weapon she found. Another morbid catchphrase. It’s followed by, “You escaped us before, Shepard. Not again.”

It’s the last straw. “You know, we have a name for this bullshit on Earth!” she shouts. “It’s calling stalking!” Flinging the weapon away, she hurdles the crate she used for cover and charges straight at the thing.

“Shepard!” he calls, but he’s pinned.

“I am the Harbinger of your perfection!” Energy barely whistles by her head. “We are superior!”

Her reaction makes Garrus simultaneously proud and worried. Fist wrapped in biotic energy, she slams into the Harbinger and drives her fist through its stomach. Then she empties an entire clip into its head, shrieking at the top of her lungs. When the clip runs dry, she slams another shockwave of biotic energy into the corpse and drops to her knees, pummeling the body. “I’ve already had two stalkers, you _fuck!_ _I don’t need another!”_

He takes the last Collector out. Ashley approaches Shepard first. “Hey, Nor. It’s dead. Let’s go.” After a minute, her fists stlow and stop. She looks up at them, eyes dangerous, and snarls, “I hate Collectors.”

  
\- - -

  
Garrus uplinks the towers to EDI. While he tinkers with it, Nora sits down. Just for a minute. Collector is spattered across her face, she knows. She doesn’t really care. But she raises her hand to her mouth and scrubs that off, at least. When it comes back, red blood mixes with the alien viscera. Before she can fixate on her blood, Ashley sits next to her. “Hey. You okay, Commander?”

“Just tired. Creeped out,” she replies. Then a thought flickers into her awareness. “I… just realized I still have the makeup on from Hock’s party. I must look ridiculous.” She glances at Ash, little grin sliding into place. “High fashion colony saving, huh? No wonder that mechanic gave me weird looks.”

“He also gave me weird looks,” Ashley points out, eying her face.

“Yes, but you have…” Nora gestures at the side of Ashley’s face. “Not for long, though.” For a minute, she forgets where she is, forgets the blood on her face and her armor and the bodies around her, and revels in the memory of Ashley’s face.

“Alright. EDI’s in. But we’ve got incoming!” Garrus rumbles, too soon. And the waves start. More Harbingers, more husks, more of those monstrosities…

Her heart soars when the Collector ship takes flight. She can’t help it. Even when the mechanic runs out, exhorting them to do something, she remains lighter-hearted. “We’ve done what we can,” she tells the man, settling one hand on his shoulder. “Now we need to find the others who are still here and help them.”

  
\- - -

  
Karin taps the vial of blood Mordin has spinning in his omnitool. “What do you think, Doctor?”

“Toxin only viable for limited time paralysis. No longer than twelve hours. Should be waking soon!” he replies, voice delighted. “Would be very useful for covert operations.”

Miranda, passing by with Shepard and Garrus, overhears. “Please don’t go back to STG, Doctor. We’d miss you!” she calls before leaving the little safe zone at the center of the colony. Karin watches them go and snorts as Grunt, Zaeed, and Jack follow. Jacob, Ashley, and Kasumi exit from the other side.

“Are you sure you don’t wish to go with the teams scouring the colony, doctor? I can handle things here, if you wish,” she offers. All around them, paralyzed bodies lie in various positions. “It’s not exactly lively.”

“No, no. Like fighting. Like science more.” He tucks away the vial of blood and hurries to the next body. “Valuable scientific possibilities here! Perhaps the swarm agent is less efficacious on some blood types, certain mutations…”

She has to laugh, even as he draws another vial of blood. “I understand. So you’re going to study the effects of the paralyzing agent on all these people in hopes to synthesize a better counter agent?” He nods. “Can’t say I blame you. Shame the Collectors couldn’t have taken the husks when they took the ship and the swarms.” She kneels and begins drawing blood.

Four bodies later, she stops breathing for a second. A face, too familiar, stares up at her. “Oh, Major Alenko,” she sighs. “Shepard will not be happy about this.”

  
\- - -

  
For a long time, everything’s just dark. Silent and dark. Eventually, sound filters back in. It’s familiar sounds, voices he thinks he knows, but it can’t be. No turian he’s ever met sounded like Garrus. And nobody’s seen Garrus in… well, since Shepard died. Ashley’s voice, too. Different, but still hers. And hearing it, even without the words, just the vocals, makes him want to cry. Krogan rumbling, high-pitched bickering, and a low human voice comes next. It grows closer, and closer.

Sensation. His wrists suddenly grow warm. So do his ankles. Air rushes over his face and hands. Evidently, he’s being moved. Soon, he feels the tickle of against the back of his head. Salarian-sounding voices, and then one that sounds like Doctor Chakwas. He thinks, _I must be dead. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be hearing voices from the Normandy._

Starbursts in his ears — someone saying his name close to him — “Oh, Major Alenko.”

Then the sounds fade again. An eternity later, he realizes the dark is not so absolutely black. He blinks, hoping to clear some of it — he _blinked._ The realization courses through him like lightning. _It’s wearing off!_ He blinks again and again and again just because he can and every time things grow a little brighter. Then warmth on his wrists again, that salarian voice — “Hm. This one flexible. Suggest finding more comfortable resting place before toxin wears off.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure Major Alenko was on the front lines. He was probably one of the first.” the Chakwas-voice murmurs. Warmth on his legs, vibrant and real, and his legs move. It’s beyond strange to feel his legs move without bidding, but it’s movement. Then air on his face again, and his head rests against something cold. “There.”

Not long after, he blinks and he can see. It’s not just Chakwas’s voice, it’s actually her. She bends over bodies of paralyzed colonists, checking pulses and drawing blood. Not far beyond, he can see the salarian. He doesn’t recognize them. But a voice comes from above, on top of the buildings, and his heart nearly stops.

“I got this one, guys!” _Ba-foom_. The woosh of biotic energy, and then — _thumpsqsh_! A husk comes sailing off the edge of the roof. It lands nearly smack in the middle of the bodies, almost smashing one. “Oh, balls. I’ve got this!” Faster than he can see, a red and black blur plummets, landing at the base of the building and sprinting towards the wobbly husk. Before it’s even on its feet, the head is gone. “Sorry, Mordin, Karin. I was practicing my throws and went a little overboard,” the person says, turning towards the doctors.

He can’t breathe. Right there, _right fucking there in front of him_ , is Shepard. Nora. Nora Nora Nora. Nora with the ridiculously long chestnut hair and unpredictable fighting style, Nora with the red and black armor, Nora who saved the Citadel, _Nora_.

“It’s alright. Mordin is quite capable, if he is to be believed,” Chakwas replies, teasing note in her voice. “Is that the last of the husks?”

Before Nora can answer, the door to the building she came off of swishes open. “You realize there are stairs, Shepard,” the woman who exits drawls. “They’re very useful.”

“Eh. What if the civilians were awake? Someone might have been in danger from the husk,” Nora points out, turning farther away from Chakwas. He can see her face, and it’s **her.** Scarred differently, yes, more tired, yes. But her.

“Now, whyever would our commander take the stairs? Less effort to jump off a building,” a familiar voice rumbles. His eyes shoot toward the sound. Garrus. He’s scarred, his armor’s worlds different, but he’s there.

W _here the hell have you been?_ he wonders. And then the woman wanders close enough for him to see the logo on her armor. _Cerberus._ His throat seizes up. _Shepard. Shepard, no._

But she’s striding out of the med-bay looking area, Garrus and the Cerberus lackey behind her, and he still can’t move. When he loses sight of the last glint of light off her hair, he turns his mind inward. Every muscle strains. All his effort gets poured into his body, desperately trying to shake off the toxin.

As he tries, more come through. A krogan, a horrifically scarred man, and a girl with tattoos peeking out from under her black tank tote in a lot of bodies. The girl carries the most, wrapped in a biotic field. He can see the power rolling off of her, see it in how opaque her field is. He doesn’t want to fight her. Next there’s a hooded figure, another Cerberus lackey, and someone with extensive cybernetics. The woman with cybernetics seems familiar, but he only sees one side of her face.

Sunlight fades. It’s nearly sunset when one of the colonists finally moves. And then another, and another. Meanwhile, he screams _,I took the first hit! How are you waking up first?_ When the salarian doctor passes by, babbling about mutations and increased resistance, he knows.

All of him comes to life at once. He gasps for air, drawing in huge breaths to offset the hours of shallow ones. Pins and needles shoot up and down his legs. Chakwas turns towards him, but before she sees him, Shepard enters the camp. Instantly, Delan Rutherford marches up to her. “These people from your ship — they’ve been calling you Shepard. I know that name. You’re some big goddamn Alliance hero.”

Kaidan finds his voice as he stands, legs wobbly. “Commander Nora Shepard. Captain of the Normandy, first human Spectre, and the savior of the Citadel. You’re in the presence of a legend… and a ghost.”

Delan turns toward him with a sneer. “Figures you’re left behind. Lost all those good people, and you’re still here.” He marches away, grumbling under his breath. Nora turns toward him, face as wide and open as he’s ever seen it.

“Kaidan,” she breathes. He can’t help the way his heart tenses. Her voice rings with happiness and rapture. If he’d ever heard his name like that on the Normandy — “It’s so good to see you.” And then she darts toward him. Still woozy, still in battle mode, he almost attacks. But then her arms slide around him, small even in her armor, and her face fits in the crook of his neck. “I’m glad the Collectors didn’t get you,” she mumbles into his neck. Too soon, she backs away.

“Is that who that was? The Collectors?” he grumbles. “They pack one hell of a punch.”

“They do. And apparently, they’ve been stalking me,” she jokes, some of the light fading from her face. “How’ve you been?”

He waits for a minute, waits for her to apologize for faking her death, but she doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been thinking you were dead, Shepard. That’s how I’ve been.” More of the light fades from her face, but he hurries on. “Two years. I blamed myself for not getting you off the Normandy. How could you not tell me?”

Her laughter, sudden and brittle, makes him jump. “What was I supposed to tell you, Kaidan? I _was_ dead.” She turns her head and tilts her face. Low light highlights the scars gleaming in her face. “See these? This is what’s left of how I was brought back from the dead. Cerberus… A rogue Cerberus cell got my body. They… they wanted a hero.” Her swallow is audible. “I’m more robot than human now. I don’t know how they did it.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?” he demands. “Nobody can —” Words die. His heart drops into his stomach. _Ashley, **Ashley Williams**_ , walks into the makeshift med-bay. Her face is half-cybernetic, but it’s her. And he _knows_ she died. “Ashley?”

“They brought her back too. Apparently she was the original model. I was the…” another swallow. “I was their second version.” Ashley walks up behind Nora and rests her hand on her shoulder.

First, she nods to him. Then she speaks. “Kaidan. Good to see you’re not dead. Commander, we’ve cleared every building in the colony. Garrus fiddled with the automatic calibrations on the defense turrets a little, but everything else is fine. Your orders?”

Without turning, Nora tell her, “Find the others and load up into the Normandy. We’ll stay until some more colonists are out of paralysis, but we need to get onto the Collector’s tails quickly.”

“Yes ma’am!” Ashley leaves, and his eyes trail her.

“They… how could they do that?” he demands. “This is wrong!”

Again, her laughter startles him. “You’re telling me. But it happened. Cerberus rescued me from their rogue facility, and now…” One hand runs over her face. “Now I’m trying to fight the Collectors.”

“With Cerberus.” His voice is flat. He knows. He doesn’t care. “How could you be working for them? I mean, you were there — on Akuze — and —”

“What choice do I have, Kaidan? The Alliance is ignoring the disappearances of entire colonies. Even if I ignored that, if I went back? I’d be courtmartialed faster than I could blink.” Nora sighs and her shoulders sag. “So far, Cerberus seems to be the only people doing anything about these disappearances.”

“Funny, I heard they were _behind_ the disappearances,” he bites out.

“Yes, because a human supremacist organization is going to kidnap millions of humans,” another voice drawls from his left. Garrus walks closer, within arm’s reach of Shepard. “Hello, Kaidan.”

“We all know what Cerberus is capable of! We’ve seen, first-hand, what they can do!” Kaidan growls.

“I’m firsthand proof of what they can do, Kaidan. You don’t have to tell me. But this… what am I supposed to do? Ignore — oh.” Her entire body goes stiff. “I’m with Cerberus. You think Cerberus did this. That’s… that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To investigate —” Nora’s voice breaks. “How could you think I would have anything to do with that, Kaidan? Did you think I’d changed that much?”

Even with that hitch in her voice, he can’t control his anger. “I didn’t know it was you!” he shouts, voice bouncing off the buildings. “I wanted to believe the rumors, I wanted to believe you were alive, but _I started half of them_. How could I ever have expected something like this? That you’re alive, and working with Cerberus?”

“Damn it, Kaidan. You’re focusing on Cerberus too much,” Garrus growls. Kaidan glances at him, surprised to see how much closer the turian’s slid to Shepard. “There’s a real threat. It’s the Collectors, and they’re working for the Reapers. Whatever happened to your sense of reason?”

Kaidan snorts. “Reason? Shepard’s back from the dead. So is Ash. Where does reason figure into any of this? I can’t — I don’t even know if my superiors are going to read this report. They’ll probably get halfway through and demote me for getting high on the job.”

Nora’s smile hurts. “So come with me, Kaidan. It’ll be just like it used to be. We can find Liara, and Wrex, and Tali. It’ll be right again.”

“No.” He breathes out. Garrus sighs, the flanged sound low, and walks away. “I’m Alliance. Always have been, always will be. I’ll never serve Cerberus. I’m not a traitor.”

Her smile falls. “And I am?” She sighs and closes her eyes. “More the fool, I, for thinking you might understand. You never did. I don’t want to be with Cerberus, Kaidan.” Eyelashes fluttering, she looks up at him. He’s never seen her dark brown eyes so bleak. “I don’t even want to be alive.”

With that, she turns and walks away, over to Chakwas. He doesn’t — _how do you respond to that?_ he thinks. He doesn’t know.

  
\- - -

  
Ashley perches on the steps of the shuttle, eying the space spread out before her. Over three-quarters of the colonists are awake, moving about. Kaidan’s still sitting on a crate in the shadows, eyes following Shepard — and occasionally her. Chakwas, Mordin, and Shepard all move through the colonists, gently questioning them.

Something Shepard says starts it. “So you’re the second in command, then? Since the colony’s governor was taken?” Ashley hears her murmur. “I don’t have any Alliance contacts any longer, but I’m sure Major Alenko does. I have some contacts outside the Alliance —”

That damn mechanic appears out of nowhere again. “Enough about the Alliance! Alliance this, Alliance that! Where was the Alliance when our people got sucked into that ship? Why would we want help from the Alliance now?” Seconds later, a rustle of agreeing whispers rises up. “Go ahead and get out of here, Commander Shepard! We don’t want you if you couldn’t save our colonists!”

And then, the susurrus builds.

“Commander Shepard?”

**“That** Commander Shepard?”

“I heard she single-handedly shot out the mad Spectre!”

“Someone like that should have been able to save the others!”

“I wish she’d saved Brian…”

With every whisper, her worry grows. “See? She’s nothing but a fraud, like everyone from the Alliance!” the mechanic shouts. “We don’t need the Alliance!” Not every voice, but enough, rise in agreement. “Get out of here!”

“Yeah, just git!”

“Leave, before you bring more bad luck on us!”

“That Alliance major brought enough!”

Ashley bounces to her feet the instant the colonists start moving forward, hand on her shotgun. “Garrus!” she shouts, trying to push through the crowd. His voice rumbles through her comm, but she’s too focused to listen. “Get — fuck, get out of my way!” She elbows one out of the way, but another takes his place. All around her, shouts demanding Shepard leave, that the Alliance leave, shouts blaming them, rise to the sky and echo from the buildings.

**“ENOUGH!”** Nora’s voice booms like thunder. Biotic energy lashes past Ashley, trailing across her skin like a caress —

And everything stops. Blue biotics pulse, covering the skin of every colonist, all still as stone. “I am Commander Shepard. But I am not Alliance right now. If you want to label me as anything, call me Cerberus. And before you riot, I want you to remember something.” Her voice drops down, low and deadly. “I want you to remember who fought for the other colonies. I want you to remember how many of them were left. I may not have been able to save all of you, but I saved more here than anyone else has anywhere else.” Her biotics flicker and fade from the colonists, who still don’t move. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go put **my** damn ship and **my** damn crew in the line of fire, and risk **my** life to get your fellow colonists back. And even if I can’t, maybe I can make sure nobody else ever gets abducted.”

Silence, for a long minute. And then they all step aside. Shepard brushes through them, eyes alight with anger. Garrus follows, gun up, as she stalks toward the shuttle. Chakwas and Mordin come next. Part of Ashley expects Kaidan to come. He just stands at the back of the crowd, eyes forlorn, and calls, “Good luck, Commander,” in the softest of voices.

_Kssssh._ Before the shuttle door even fully shuts, Nora crumbles to the floor in a heap. “Commander!” every one of them gasps. Chakwas and Ashley both hit their knees.

“Don’t worry…” Shepard pants before hissing. “Just overtaxed my amp.” Ashley winds her fingers through the heavy silk of Nora’s hair and presses against the back of her skull. Her amp’s _scorching._

“Holy fuck!” Ashley swears, jerking her hand back. “What the hell even was that?”

“Liara knew a biotic stasis. She taught it to me, a bit, before…” Nora’s voice falters. “Before. I’ve practiced a little since then, but never on so many targets.”

“Don’t do it again. I want you in your quarters as soon as we’re on the Normandy, plenty of rest, fluids, and food,” Chakwas barks. “That was risky and foolish.”

“Isn’t everything?” Nora breathes. Garrus reaches down and helps her to her feet, though she still wobbles. Ashley scrambles up as well and helps deposit the commander on one of the shuttle seats. For a little while, all is silent.

 

  
\- - -

 

Zaeed’s back in his happy spot, carving away on a little bit of something for the doc, when he hears the shuttle bay doors open. It’s idle habit for him to look out and see who it is. Solus comes out, then Williams, and then — “Ohoho, _there_ you are, silver fox.” Right after them, Shepard storms out, followed by Vakarian.

He watches Shepard make a wobbly beeline for the elevator. Williams makes a beeline for EDI and opens what looks like a comm link. Chakwas follows Shepard, though at a steady pace, and Vakarian… starts pacing. Solus observes for a minute as the others disappear and then nods, mumbles something, and goes to the elevator too.

“Huh. Guess somethin’ went down.”

  
\- - -

  
Garrus paces. And paces. And paces. _That’s not normal. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not._ Every time he's ever heard anything like it from turians...

Once some of the nervous energy from Shepard nearly getting mobbed dissipates, he can think clearly again. So he takes the elevator up one floor, like he usually does. But this time, he veers to the right instead of going straight. “Doctor Chakwas?”

“Yes, Garrus?” she answers, looking up from her files. “Did you sustain injury in the field?”

“No. I just, ah.” He pauses and ruminates for a minute. “I… need someone who knows more about human culture than I do.”

She smiles, clearly amused as she crosses her arms. “Well, I certainly know a lot about human culture. What is it?”

Right now, he’s glad nobody on the ship understands his subharmonics. They’re keening stress and worry. Lots of it. “Well… is it a human idiom to say ‘I don’t want to be alive’?”

Her eyebrows crease, in that human expression of worry. “It depends. Humans are known for sarcasm, where they say one thing and mean the opposite. But that’s… not particularly sarcastic phrasing. Is that an exact quote?”

“Yes. Well — almost. Exactly, it was, ‘I don’t even want to be alive.’” He almost scratches his scars, but remembers in time. “It was at the end of a conversation, but…”

“Without more context, I can’t say for sure. But that doesn’t sound normal, Garrus.” She hesitates and walks closer. “You don’t have to answer. But the person who said this… Garrus, was it Shepard?” It feels like betrayal for him to speak, so he just nods. “Thank you.”

When he leaves, his next destination is Shepard’s quarters. But first, he takes off his armor. Charging into your superior officer’s quarters in full armor… probably not a good idea.

  
\- - -

  
Nora hurls the sparkling dress into the corner of her desk. Her laundry gets kicked into a pile against her wardrobe. And then, armor shed, she sinks down in the middle of the floor. All she does… for a little while… is breathe. The sensation of tears sting her eyes, but none come. When her muscles cramp, she stands, legs still weak, and staggers towards her wardrobe. Beneath the sensible pants and shirts, the Cerberus-emblazoned casual wear, she’s stowed a thick sweatshirt and the fuzziest pants she could find. It’s a small comfort, but it is one.

And then she collapses against her footboard, leans her head back, and stares into space. “It will free man from his remaining chains, the chains of gravity which still tie him to this planet. It will open to him the gates of heaven,” she whispers. When her eyes slide shut, she can’t help the single sob ripping itself from her chest, or the tears following behind.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus bangs on the door, hails EDI, everything he can think of. Nothing works. Either Shepard went elsewhere, or she’s asleep, or — his heart stops, thinking about battle fatigue. “Damn it, EDI, let me in!”

_Tssss_. Behind him, the sound of a tactical cloak deactivating sets his teeth on edge. Goto steps past him, slanting a smile up at him. “I came to check on Shepard. Williams is down in the shuttle bay, wrestling the krogan. Thought something might have gone down. But I see it’s… mostly under control.” Seconds later, the door slides open. “Have at it, big guy.”

He charges in, expecting — oh, he doesn’t know. But it’s not what he finds. He finds a messy room, clothes in a crumpled pile, skylight wide open with Shepard staring up at it. She wears odd clothing, clothing he’s only ever seen humans wear on the Citadel, and not often even then. “Sh —” he thinks better of it. “Nora. Are you alright?” he asks as he steps closer. Instinct means his subharmonics are purring with comfort, even if she can’t hear it.

After a minute, she croaks, “Garrus?” and brings her head up from that odd position. “What are you doing here?” She pauses. He’s too confused by the strange dark streaks down her face. _“How_ did you get in here?”

“Turns out recruiting a master thief is useful,” he murmurs, kneeling beside her. “What’s on your face?”

“What’s on my —” Her eyes roll up in her head. “Right. Kasumi’s fucking party. It’s the makeup. I never took it off.” Her voice breaks. “I need to take it off, but I don’t want to move. _Fuck.”_ And then she begins crying. Garrus hates human tears.

“Then don’t. What do you need to take it off?” he asks, standing again. “Just water?”

“Just… just wet a rag and bring it in here,” she whispers. He slides into the bathroom and exits scant seconds later with a damp cloth.

“Thank you.” He kneels next to her again and she takes the cloth, scrubbing harshly at her face. Watching her makes him wince. The force she’s using makes her skin all pink instead of pale — how can human skin withstand so much and still be so fragile? He’s musing on the differences between races when she drops the cloth in his hand, nearly startling him.

“Ah, you missed a spot,” he murmurs. Not much effort is necessary to wipe the faded black splatters from her chin and neck. Somehow, by the time he’s done, she’s shaking like a ship without stabilizers. “…did I hurt you?”

“No. No, Garrus, you didn’t,” she whispers, voice so thick he can barely understand her, and bursts into — _shit._ This is the kind of crying he saw people do in Huerta, when they found out someone died. Huge tears, lots of noise.

“Please stop leaking, Nora,” he tries in a desperate attempt for humor. It doesn’t assuage her tears.

Low, barely audible even to him, EDI speaks. “Physical contact is helpful for people suffering from emotional overload.”

“Right,” he mumbles, and changes positions. After a second of thought, sliding up beside Nora seems like the best idea. When his back’s up against the footboard and he’s as flat on the floor as he can be without hurting his spurs, he slides a tentative arm around her shoulders. Muscles tense up beneath his fingers as they slide across. Cupping her shoulder brings his fingers into contact with the spring-loaded muscle in her arms. “You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs into her ear. Even sitting down, she’s still worlds smaller than him.

So of course, instead of answering his question, she turns and curls up into his side. Her arms don’t fit all the way across his chest, but they spread out and lie there nonetheless. One leg flings itself over his lap, the other slides behind his back, and she clings. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a flash of motion. Goto’s scent, and the door’s open, and she’s winking as it closes. Of all the desperate looks he’s ever given, he’s sure this is the most desperate. The door just keeps closing.

Finally, Shepard answers with a, “Not really. Can I just… not be the commander for ten minutes? Please?”

“Of course, Nora. Of course,” he soothes, stroking her arm. Garrus didn’t expect to end up with an armful of Shepard when he came up, but he’ll be damned if he moves now.

 


	5. Once Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a lot of bad sex humor, as well as Nora lashing out, and a lot of depression talk, especially closer to the end. Also, more bad writing, in general. I'm especially bad at confrontations.
> 
> Note: wibbled a couple things.

Miranda hums, tapping her lip as she turns off the feed to her computer. Naturally, all the security cameras answer to her computer first, and then to the console on the engineering drink. Right now, the one in the shuttle bay shows Ashley wrestling Grunt. It’s one to five, but she’s not given up yet.

Decision made, she slips from her office and stalks across the mess hall. Half a dozen crew members lounge at the table, nibbling on their food. Cool and calm, she offers them a smile. But her entire demeanor hardens when she steps into the med bay. “Doctor. I didn’t realize when I left, after helping Shepard subdue the remaining husks, the situation would change so drastically.”

Chakwas doesn’t even glance up from her datapad. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Miss Lawson,” she replies, voice smoother and calmer than Miranda’s.

“Certainly Officer Williams is not in a rage and fighting krogan for fun.” Miranda licks her lips and glances to her nails. “I’d like to know what happened.”

“Well, I would like to know what happened to both Shepard and Ashley during their resurrection projects. But somehow, you have time to file reports to the Illusive Man, and none for decrypting those resurrection reports.” Now the doctor’s gaze pulls away from her datapad and settles on Miranda.

Miranda stutters, taken off guard by the absolute ice and steel in Karin’s gaze. “I — excuse me?”

“No, there are no excuses, Miss Lawson.” Karin stands, smoothing the skirt of her uniform. “I’ll state it plainly for you. I believe you are withholding vital information from me, on the grounds of your loyalty to Cerberus. Until you release what I need to treat my patients properly, I’ll afford you the same respect I afforded Saren’s minions.” And somehow, the already dangerous look in her eyes turns murderous.

“Doctor Chakwas!” Miranda barks. “This is _insubordination!_ I can —”

“Do nothing.” Karin steps closer, her eyes tilted in amusement. “I am not, technically, Cerberus. _I_ am Alliance. _I_ am on vacation. You have no jurisdiction.” Miranda freezes.

It’s true, every word of it. Chakwas is not on Cerberus’ payroll. She never has been. For a minute, all her thoughts scatter. When they return, she takes a deep breath. “What kind of magic does Shepard use, to keep you so loyal?” she spits at the doctor. “I cannot wrench a word from Ashley about Shepard. Trying to speak to Garrus is like pulling scales. And here you stand, ready to fight for her.”

“If you don’t know the answer to that question yet, you never will.” Karin’s arms drop as she steps back. “Get out of my med bay. I don’t want you in here again unless you’re injured or you have those files. And believe me, those files are necessary. If you can’t tell they are, I don’t know where you studied science.”

When she sits down, Miranda pivots and leaves. She does her best to keep from fleeing, but it’s close.

  
\- - -

  
Blood trickles from her nose. She licks it from her upper lip and growls at Grunt. “Again.”

“Aright, now that’s enough, little lady.” Massani — _bastard_ — approaches from the elevator. “Been watchin’. You give a fair fight, but he’s a krogan. You’re bleedin’, bruised, an’ probably broke a rib already.”

“Fuck off, Massani,” Ashley barks over her shoulder. “This has nothing to do with you.”

He’s behind her surprisingly fast. “Nah, it don’t. But Shepard’ll kick _my_ ass if she finds out I let her krogan kick yours.”

Every muscle in her body tenses. “Shepard’s not here right now. She doesn’t have to know,” she grinds out between clenched teeth. Grunt looks between the two of them, the krogan version of surprised amusement on his face, and laughs.

“She doesn’t have to, yeah. But she’ll find out. Don’t know if you noticed, bein’ that you’ve sailed with her for so long, but she’s a canny little bitch when she wants to be.” Zaeed sounds amused, too amused for the statement he just made. And it pushes all her buttons.

Ashley whirls on him and growls, “Don’t you **dare** call my captain a bitch.” Massani just stands there, arms crossed, and grins.

“Shepard’s a bitch. A goddamn bitch. The biggest bitch on Omega, an’ in the Citadel, an’ —” The longer he goes, the higher her hackles raise. When he gets to the list, her vision goes red.

 _“Shut the fuck up!_ ” she roars, springing at him. Her charge is sloppy. All he does to dodge is sidestep. It throws off her momentum, but she turns the charge into a somersault and comes to her feet, fists up, as she spins. He lounges, still smiling, not a care in the world. “Don’t open your mouth about Shepard, ever again.” Predictably, that’s the very thing he does.

“Heard she bitched at Saren till he died. Sounds about right, yeah?” She grits her teeth and rushes him again. He dodges again, and keeps talking. “And I heard Aria was goin’ to have her assassinated. Can’t have two people as the biggest bitch in the galaxy.”

“She’s — not — _shut your mouth!”_ Between words, she throws punches and kicks. None of them connect. Zaeed dodges every damn one.

“After she left you behind on Virmire, bet she had a party. Kinda thing a bitch like that’d do, right?” He catches her leg when she tries to kick through his skull, and stares her down.

Tugging does no good. He has it firm. “Let go!”

“Nah. Just needa hear the truth, right? That your commandin’ officer was glad to get rid of you?” And that does it. Every thought of strategy, of anything but _grinding his fucking face into the ground_ , leaves her mind. She lunges for his throat, arms outstretched —

and he catches her by the face. Seconds later, she’s on the ground. Massani pins her, one arm at her throat and his knees on her arms. “Stand down, Williams. Look at you. Bleedin’ and burned down to the stub, and still fighting like it’s your life on the line. Go take a nap.”

“Fuck off, Massani.” She spits in his face. Anger, she expects. Maybe a fight. Instead, he wipes his face and sighs at her.

“Look, Shepard’s not a bitch most of the time. Sometimes she’s gotta be, yeah. Line of work she’s in calls for it. But an old codger like me, takin’ you out without even a damn effort?” He shakes his head. “Take a nap. You can beat me up after.”

Dumbfounded, Ashley squeaks out, “You… you were goading me? Why?”

“Meant it when I said Shepard’d kick my ass.” Before he can say anything else, Grunt’s footsteps come close and he towers over them.

“Weak, Williams,” the krogan rumbles.

“Yeah, she’s worn down. Y’ wanna help me haul her to med bay an’ see about her ribs?” Zaeed asks, standing and pulling her up. She won’t admit it — not to him, not after that — but her head’s spinning more than it should.

Grunt helps. She grumbles the whole way up. (And then has a good laugh at Zaeed, awkwardly hitting on Chakwas. It almost makes up for him goading her.)

  
\- - -

  
Jacob whistles merrily as he settles into his bunk for the night. Regardless of their dubious victory over the Collectors, he had a chance to send out another report. He knows, probably better than anyone else except Miranda and Mordin, how heavily bugged the Normandy is. Sending out reports from the ship? Never going to happen.

Well, maybe not never, but definitely not without extenuating circumstances. He’s escaped notice this long. Nobody pays attention to the good soldier with great abs. They pay attention to hotshot snipers, cybernetically enhanced women, genius salarians — simple, human Jacob, just a normal biotic, is very boring. On purpose.

“I love my job sometimes,” he sighs into his pillow as he drifts off.

  
\- - -

  
Eventually, Nora’s tears slow. Her breathing follows shortly after. Garrus recognizes the cadence of her breath — she’s fallen asleep. But his legs are beginning to cramp, curled up on the floor like he is. “If I…” He slides away, just a little, enough for her arms to loosen. Even in her sleep, her grip is tight. When it loosens, just a bit, the frown flickers back onto her face. Her breathing doesn’t speed up. Her eyes don’t flutter. But chances are good if he disrupts her too much, she’ll wake.

Debating, he almost doesn’t hear EDI’s soft voice. “Officer Vakarian.”

“Yes, EDI?” he answers, trying to be quiet.

“Commander Shepard suffers from extreme insomnia and restless sleep. Please refrain from waking her, if possible. No health protocol allows humans to retain their health on less than four hours of REM sleep a day,” the AI murmurs.

His head rolls back onto the headboard and he sighs. “Got it, EDI. Thanks.”

“Logging you out, Officer.”

After a minute, he picks his head up and assesses his situation. In sleep, her legs have curled closer to her. If he moves just so, he _might_ be able to pick her up.

It’s a tricky proposition. His flexibility is barely up to the task, but he manages. Not a proper hold by any means, but he manages to stand with the Commander’s arms wrapped around his neck. The hardest part is trying to figure out what to do with her legs. He ends up holding them against his waist, harmonics violently grumbling at the pressure against the soft skin there. By the time she’s on the bed, her grip has barely budged. But he drops her legs like an overheated gun.

He ends up on the bed with her, on his side. As soon as his carapace bumps into her ribs, she turns toward him in her sleep and lets out a pleased trill, wrapping her body around his. He can’t help laughing into the silence of the room. “Human harmonics, huh? Didn’t know there was such a thing.”

For the most part, turians rarely sleep longer than six hours. But Garrus’s exhaustion means when he drifts off, Shepard curled up against his chest like a spring, he doesn’t wake for seven. When he does, it’s the sudden awareness he’ll never shake. In one second, he’s unconscious. In the next, he’s aware of the absence of heat on his chest, the silence of the room, and Shepard’s breathing. It’s not stuttering or slow, like she’s asleep, but it’s present. Darkness greets him when he opens his eyes. Only the light of the stars outside break it — and the two pinpricks of light purple, not a meter away from him on the bed.

“Morning, Shepard,” he rumbles, pulling himself into a sitting position. She doesn’t reply for a minute. His eyes adjust quickly to the pitch black, and he can see her silhouette — still in the soft, slouchy clothing from earlier.

“I’m sorry, Garrus,” she whispers when she finally speaks. “That was… very unprofessional of me.”

He can’t help the scoffing. Really. “And you’re always a paragon of professionalism, Nora?”

“I try to be.” One arm moves, up from where it’s folded across her knees, and passes across her face. For an instant, the purple pinpricks disappear as the hand passes over her eyes. “Breaking down and falling asleep on my favorite sniper doesn’t quite fall into that.”

“One of your trusted friends and former crewmates just threw a wild varren fit on you. Then dozens of humans tried to mob you.” He swings his legs from the bed and pads across the room to the control panel for the lights. “I think you’re allowed to have some emotions.”

“Emotions, yes. Breakdowns, no.” He turns as the lights fade on, in time to see her body shudder and fold into itself. “It wasn’t even about Kaidan. He’s got every right to believe I’m a clone, or a fake. But _all_ those people? Does the entire Alliance think I’m a traitor? I knew it was a possibility. But it didn’t… it wasn’t real yet. Now it is.”

 _Spirits, help me_ , he thinks. He’s awful at comfort. “If the Alliance believes that, they’re all idiots, Shepard. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been…” He gestures, trying to think of a word. “You’re hopelessly good sometimes, Nora. If the Council took lessons from you, we wouldn’t be looking for the Collectors on our own.”

Silence, for far too long. “Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe I have changed.” She glances at him, eyes shuttered and dull. “What if I really am just a Cerberus puppet now?”

“Then I shoot you as soon as you start looking out for Cerberus, instead of the galaxy,” Garrus fires back. He doesn’t add, _And then I shoot everyone else on this damn ship, and then I go primal hunting the Illusive Man and Hackett both._ She doesn’t need to know that. Nobody does. It very nearly happened on Omega. If — well, he shouldn’t think about that.

“…thank you, Garrus. I appreciate it.” She looks away, up into the stars. Her neck, long, and too thin, makes him remember.

“By the way.” He approachs, towering over her. “I’m no expert on human anatomy. But shouldn’t you be… more weighty?”

Her head snaps toward him, eyebrows high. “Is that a fat joke, Garrus? I didn’t know you knew how to make those.”

“What — no? Why would I make jokes about… oh. This is a human thing, isn’t it?” His mandibles flare without bidding. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand humans.”

“You, and every other person in the galaxy, myself included.” She shrugs and offers a weak half-grin. “After all, what’d we be without our mystique?”

“Well, I —” His eyes narrow. “You’re not answering my question. Shepard…”

“It’s nothing, okay? I’m having trouble getting used to the amount of implants in my body now. I use more energy than I used to.” Nora flaps her hand at him, the gesture incredibly dismissive. “Worrywart.”

Mandibles flaring again, he drawls, “I can smell you lying.”

“…turians can do that?” she asks, looking genuinely stunned.

“No. But you can’t lie, Shepard.” He strides across the room, jaw set. “I’m sure Chakwas would love to know —”

“Don’t you **dare,** Garrus Vakarian. Or I’ll — I’ll —” she stammers, clearly grasping for a threat. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother turning as he reaches the door. “I’ll call your family and tell them where you’ve been!”

Blood freezes in his veins as the threat sinks in. “You’ll… fine, Shepard. Fine.” When the door finally open, he stalks out. Shepard stays, watching him with tired eyes.

  
\- - -

 

Needles begin pricking Nora’s limbs after she sits too still for too long, as usual. The numbness almost makes her stumble when she stands, but the shooting pain is almost welcome. Limping to her terminal, her first intention is to speak to Joker. Then she sees an email in her inbox.

_Commander,_

_We have discovered a possible opportunity. There is a justicar on Ilium, outside of asari space. If our intelligence is correct, there is also the chance of a master assassin being there._

_An information broker on Ilium should have more information. We’ve sent the navpoint to your omnitool. When you speak with the broker, ask for information on Samara and Thane Krios._

_The Illusive Man_

After she scans the message, she goes ahead and calls down to the cockpit. “Joker. I know I told you to head for the Citadel, but change our heading.”

“Sure thing, Commander. Where to?”

  
\- - -

  
Jack knows her limits. Honest to God, she does. It’s why she’s air-boxing in the shuttle bay. Too many Cerberus documents in a row sends her into a rage. Two more, and she’s pretty sure the bulkheads might have ended up coming off the ship.

Practicing her fist fighting doesn’t happen as often as it used to. For a while, she didn’t use her biotics at all. It felt like giving in. It felt like she was letting Cerberus win. Then she’d joined a gang comprised entirely of biotics. “Fuck, I miss sparring with Will and Cassie,” she mumbles, spinning into a high kick.

“Your form’s kind of sloppy,” comes a voice from the far side of the shuttle bay.

“Mother _fuck_ — what the hell?” Jack shouts, whirling to face the voice, fists raised.

Williams appears around the Hammerhead, hands raised. “Easy, tiger. I’m always down here doing something. Garrus stole my spot calibrating, so I stole his spot messing with the M —” Her face falls. Only for a second before her expression reverts, but Jack catches it. “The Hammerhead.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, didn’t realize.” She straightens and uses her forearm to mop the sweat off her face. “Do you mind if I…”

“Help yourself.” The cyborg chuckles. “I really don’t care. Plenty of room. But your form is sloppy.”

Jack rolls her eyes. “What form? I just punch and kick until shit’s taken care of.” She moves to go back to punching the air, but — _oh, hey. I wonder_. Clearly the other woman’s getting ready to speak, so — “Hey, Williams. You cool with me doing this without my shirt, or you gonna ogle me like the Commander?” she jokes.

She gets an eyeroll in response. “You can call me Ashley. And no, I’m not quite as…” Ashley flaps one hand in the air. “Well, you’ve seen.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jack snorts. “Hell, I’m pretty sure if I was within a foot of her for more than ten minutes, she’d short out.”

“No, that’s me,” Ashley deadpans. Jack… doesn’t know how to react.

“Uh, right. How the hell’d you get your robot bits, anyway?” Jack mumbles, swinging her arms back and forth in preparation for another bout of punching. “Seems like something I’d hear about if you were some sort of bullshit Alliance project.”

When she glances over, Ashley might as well be chiseled from stone. “I… you don’t know?” she mutters, voice gravelly and low.

“Should I?” she replies, swinging experimentally.

A snort is her answer. “Considering Nora threw a huge bitch fit at you on Purgatory about it, kinda figured you’d have an idea.” Ashley appears in her line of sight and settles in front of her, body tensed.

“Oh. Yeah, I was kinda… look, you wake up from cryo and see how rational you are,” Jack mumbles.

“If you keep your arms a little closer to your body, you have a better chance of hitting your target. You’re doing this —” she demonstrates neatly. “And it should be more like this.” Jack imitates Ashley. But she doesn’t miss the consternation on the other woman’s face. “Do you really not know? Is it not in Cerberus files?”

“Fuck if I know. All I’m looking for is…” She tries not to think about it, she does, but she _thinks_ and she feels the needles in her skin and the searing ripping — _fuck fuck fuck no not here and now deep breaths, deep breaths._ “A whole lotta shit I don’t like talking about.”

Ashley’s watching her, eyes narrow. “I see.” She shrugs. “Understandable. Tighten your core a little, kind of like you’re constantly flexing — yeah, that’s it. Foot in. No, the other foot!” When Jack’s adjusted her stance, Ashley lets out a long breath. “Long story short… you remember anything about Virmire?”

“Yeah, kinda. Fuckin’ nutso Spectre was breeding krogan armies and the place got blew all to hell.” Jack tries another punch. It does go smoother. “Why?”

“I died there.” She’s not expecting that. Too much effort goes into her swing, and she overbalances. Only Ashley’s hands on her arms keep her from topping.

“Bullshit! You’re walking and talking, and you expect me to believe you died?” Jack spits, stumbling back into an upright position.

Ashley looks at her, single eye serious. “You believe it of Shepard. Why not me?”

This time, Jack rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. “You don’t think I actually believe half the shit she spewed, right? I figured it was cryo, or some kind of stasis, or a religious awakening. You wouldn’t believe the metaphors I’ve heard.”

All Ashley does is shake her head and close her eye. The cybernetic one remains open, unblinking, eerie. “You don’t have to believe us, Jack. But it’s the truth. It’s somewhere in those Cerberus files. I died. Shepard died.” When Ashley gulps, it’s visible. “Then Cerberus… or part of Cerberus… brought us back.”

“How —”

“I don’t know how.” Abruptly, the other woman spins on her heel and marches off. “Take a look for yourself, Jack. The truth is in there.”

Jack watches her go. She doesn’t know how much of the hurt in that eye is real.

  
\- - -

  
Mordin hums, far too excited for mere words. Ashley, Garrus, and Shepard all wait in the airlock with him. “Please don’t scare anyone on purpose until we get your skin, Ash,” the commander sighs.

“Look, it wasn’t my fault that kid was over-sensitive!” Ashley crosses her arms and huffs.

“Ash. You hid the cybernetic side of your face until you were right beside him, and then you told him the geth took your face away because you misbehaved. I don’t think he was being over-sensitive, annnd I’m definitely not taking you to the Citadel again!”

“Ah, yes. Classic child-rearing behavior. Mothering instinct kicking in, perhaps?” Mordin muses. He’s fairly certain Tuchanka could die under the look she sends him. Finally, the airlock clicks open. Mordin’s out first. He can’t help the deep breath. “Ah. Ilium. Can smell the corruption! Expensive corruption, though. Not cheap like Omega.” Nora snorts.

“I mean, you’re not _wrong,”_ she mumbles. Seconds later, as they exit into the docking bay, they are beset by two asari. Their demeanor indicates no threat, so Mordin pulls up a map of Ilium on his omnitool and compares it to the one from his last visit. He half-listens, but nothing particularly sticks out.

And then he hears, _Liara T’soni_. His head snaps up so fast his other horn almost breaks, in time with Shepard’s gasp. “Liara is here?” she whispers.

The smiling asari smiles more and nods. “Yes! She would like to see you at your earliest convenience. Just ask anyone for directions to Dr. T’soni’s office!” As soon as she hears that, all Nora’s manners disappear. Normally impeccable, even in battle, she turns curt and cannot say goodbye fast enough. She very nearly breaks into a run, speedwalking down the corridor fast enough to leave all but Garrus behind.

When they’re out of sight of the asari, when the corridor is empty for an instant, she whirls on Garrus and whispers, “Liara!” It’s almost a squeak, so quick and fast Mordin barely catches it. Then she hugs Garrus for a second and almost dances away.

  
\- - -

  
Sure, Shepard would’ve let her off the ship if she asked. But where’s the fun in that? Really, she didn’t plan on shadowing Shepard. But most people don’t get their docking fees handwaved on Ilium. And when the commander’s serious face lights up like a schoolgirl — well. She can’t not follow. Garrus looks utterly stunned when Nora hugs him. Kasumi almost laughs.

To her surprise, after that shameless display of emotion, the commander’s back on task. “Okay. We need to find this information broker first. Then…” The light in her eyes seems irreverent to look at. “Then we’ll find Liara.”

“Have you ever been to Ilium before?” Garrus rumbles, looking back at Ashley and Mordin to include them in the question.

“Nope. When would I have been?” Ashley answers, going back to humming.

“Several times. Work with STG means high-level contracts. Many information brokers on Ilium, illicit activities. Better than Omega to hide. But more expensive.” Mordin’s eyes gleam. “Wonderful science stores here. Normandy has many things. But nice to indulge.”

“Garrus, you’ve been enough places with me to tell when I’ve been somewhere.” Nora gestures towards her eyes. “Do you not see me ogling the architecture?”

Almost in time with each other, Ashley and Garrus reply, “And here I thought you were looking at the asari.” Kasumi has to hide a snort. Luckily, the crowds are loud enough it’s unnoticeable.

“I hate you all,” Nora sniffs. “The information broker’s offices aren’t far from here.”

They pass by a handful of kiosks, including one with an arrogant-sounding volus, and are heading for stairs when Ashley stops them. “Uh, Nora?”

“What? I haven’t checked out anyone!” the commander protests.

“Yeah, no, that’s a lie. Not the point, though. You’re getting us lost again.” Ashley slides up beside the commander and opens her own omnitool. “We were supposed to turn left when we saw the stairs, not go up them.”

Nora turns and leads the way, as Ashley pointed, grumbling under her breath. “…like to see how coherent she is after…” It’s still almost instinct for Kasumi to open her omnitool and send Keiji a message. She doesn’t, but she wants to. He always loved laughing at the little moments she’d see following someone.

Doors, stairs, crowds, and finally an office with an asari receptionist. Stepping up to the desk turns Nora into her usual self — the consummate professional. “Goddess bless you. I believe I have an appointment with your broker, under the name ‘Lawson’.”

“Ah, yes. Go ahead and step into her office. She’s finishing a call, but she wanted you to come in as soon as you arrived,” the asari says with a smile. “My name is Nyxeris. I will be in the office in a moment to record your transaction.”

“Thank you, Nyxeris. I appreciate it.” The doors open, and Kasumi slides in.

  
\- - -

  
Honestly, Nora expects a quick transaction when she steps into the office. Information brokers all believe time is money. And then she can go find flowers, and Liara’s favorite chocolate, maybe, and… oh, she doesn’t know what else. But something, certainly. Mordin steps in first, then Garrus and Ashley, with Nora on their heels. That means when she hears that voice — she doesn’t see anything, but her heart stops. “…I will _flay you alive_.”

“Liara,” she whispers, voice trembling wildly. Garrus turns, glances at her, and steps out of the way. She might be mad at him, but — the path is clear. Liara, prettier than ever, and not wearing armor for once, stands before her. _“Liara!”_ Her body moves without bidding, but she would have bid it so anyway, rocketing across the office to the asari.

“Shepard!” Liara gasps, whirling around, eyes wide. “I — I didn’t see you come in!”

“Hi,” Nora whispers. All of her professionalism disappears when Liara reaches out and wraps her in a huge hug. “I missed you,” she murmurs in the crook of Liara’s neck, clinging to her.

“It’s so good to see you, Nora,” Liara whispers back. Nora tilts her head up… and waits.

Liara steps away. No kiss comes. “What, no greeting for the scarred turian?” Garrus’s drawl comes from the back of the room.

 _Right. Public. She’s not much for displays of affection_ , Nora reminds herself.

“It’s good to see you too, Garrus. I’m glad you survived Omega,” Liara says, moving to sit behind her desk. “Dr. Solus. Wonderful on the plague. And Ashley — I can’t say this is a look I expected on you.”

“Well, yeah. Last time you saw me, I had the corpse look. Also not a look I was expected to have,” Ashley cracks. Nora lets her eyes sweep over them all and smiles before she turns to Liara.

“I’m… I didn’t know you were the information broker the Illusive Man sent me to,” she explains. “I would have brought you something if I did.”

“The Illusive Man and I have had… dealings in the past,” Liara says, leaning on her desk. “Am I to assume he sent you to me in order to inquire about the justicar?”

“Not just her, but an assassin, too. Thane Krios?” They discuss business for a solid ten minutes. Then Nora nods, pleased with the information. “Thank you, Liara. This will be helpful.” She goes to leave the office, and waits — waits for Liara to call her back, to send a message to her omnitool. Something. Anything.

Nothing comes.

  
\- - -

  
Always, Garrus has excelled at watching. That means he sees the way Shepard lingers, eyes desperate and hopeful.

Liara does nothing.

He cannot help the way his jaw grinds as he leaves the office.

  
\- - -

  
Ashley reaches out to Nora, to say something, but the commander beats her to it. “We need to go see that person about your skin, Ash. Do you want to come with us, or do you want to shop, Mordin?”

“Hmm. Will come with you after skin growth complete. Must ensure quality. For now, will browse. New omnitool, perhaps?” The salarian disappears into the crowd quickly, leaving Garrus behind.

“I’ll stick around. Mostly so nobody gets lost,” he jokes. Ashley appreciates the effort to break the tension, but it doesn’t work.

They take a skycar to their destination in silence. “Office is on the twentieth floor,” Nora murmurs, and the elevator is just as quiet.

Of course, it’s a salarian running the business. “Hello! Scientist Wolo Marvad, at your service!” the pale salarian bubbles. “What a pleasure to meet you! I’m assuming you are here for prosthetic skin for this young lady?”

“Ashley Williams. Nice to meet you too,” Ashley murmurs, shaking the doctor’s hand. “This is Nora, and that’s Garrus.”

“I was told you’re one of the best at this. What kind of work do you usually do?” Nora asks, crossing her arms. “I can’t imagine this is very profitable.”

“Ah, you’d be surprised!” Marvad answers. “Outsourcing prosthetic skin to burn care centers, prosthetic dealers, and so on is very rewarding.” He coughs into his hand, rather sheepishly. “Honestly, most of our work goes to… less charitable endeavors, though.” Ashley raises her eyebrow, and sees Nora do the same. “Usually, rich people with sex robots.”

Every person in the room grimaces. “What do you need from me, besides credits?” Ashley asks.

“DNA sample, scan of the affected areas of the body, and time.” Marvad grins, wide and easy. “I also could regrow the hair on the skin for you. Would that be acceptable?”

“Mother of God, yes,” Ashley sighs. “I’m assuming skin samples and hair, then?” He nods. She reaches for the pins in her hair and pulls them loose before unrolling her hair and letting it fall to her shoulders. Nora’s gasp tells her something she forgot.

“Ash! What happened — your hair was longer than mine!” she mumbles, reaching up to touch it. The black-brown waves only come to just below her shoulders now, and even the ends are still weak.

“Guess preserving my looks wasn’t as much of a priority as it was for you,” Ashley mumbles. It only takes ten minutes for the doctor to gather his samples, and then they’re done. Half the payment up front. When she goes digging for her credit chit, Nora smacks the back of her head and hands over the Cerberus one.

“Will send progress reports! Good day!” Marvad calls as they leave the office.

“We’re going back to the Normandy, and then we’ll go out to find these people,” Nora murmurs. “Garrus, please find Mordin and tell him we’re going back to the ship.” The turian obeys. Finally, it’s just Ash and Nora.

“Nor —” she starts.

“Not right now, Ash. Please.” Dark brown eyes, ringed by the dark purple of her cybernetic enhancements, turn on her. “I’m just tired.”

She acquiesces quietly.

 

\- - -

  
Of course, Shepard storms in when she’s in the middle of composing a report. That’s how things work. So Miranda closes the report and swivels to face Shepard. “Hello, Commander.”

“Have you figured out how those scientists kept my hair intact?” Nora demands. Miranda blinks.

 _That is not what I expected to hear_. “I… yes, I have. It was one of the less encrypted files, or rather, in one of them. After they brought you back, they cycled growth hormones and extremely potent vitamin cocktails through your body. This helped your body heal around the implants, and generally helped it recover. Of course, every vitamin has many uses, and the presence of so many means your hair regrew very quickly.”

Nora doesn’t move, barely breathes, for a minute. “So I was bald when I was dead?”

“Presumably, yes. Even if you weren’t, they did change your biotic implants, so they must have shaved your head.” Miranda steeples her fingers and leans forward. “May I ask what brought this on?"

Her question comes just as Shepard pivots to leave, and she pauses. “Ash doesn’t have her hair,” she whispers. “I don’t know why I thought she did.”

“Yes. A nuclear explosion would definitely remove all hair from a body,” Miranda murmurs, dry as can be. “But Shepard, before you go — may I have some shore leave? There are some… matters on Ilium I should deal with.”

“Yes. Stay in touch with the ship.” And then, Shepard’s gone.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi’s already back in her room, new toys filched, when Nora walks in. “Kasumi. That favor? I’m calling it in.”

“Call away, Shep. You know I’m ready.” She sets down the new tactical cloak modification and leans forward.

“Miranda’s got some heavily encrypted files from the station where Ash and I were resurrected. Help her crack them, if you will.” Shepard’s almost perfectly still, except for the way she wrings her hands against each other.

“That’s all? Pff, I’ll have it done so fast your head will spin,” Kasumi scoffs.

“Good.” And then the commander stalks out.

  
\- - -

  
Jack loses her breath when Shepard charges into battle alongside her. Most adepts don’t have the balls for that. Wildness gleams in her eyes, her entire body flickering with biotic blue. Almost perfectly in sync, she hurls a shockwave to match Jack’s.

Not to be outdone, Jack snarls and cocks her shotgun, blowing off the head of the nearest merc. Then she hurls a handful of energy at the next, the singularity bubbling outwards from its single point. Seconds later, more energy slams into it. FOOM! The explosion tells Jack it was a warp. “Hell yeah, Shepard! Let’s kick some merc ass!” she cackles. Shepard’s returning smile is bloodless and strangely terrifying.

 _Pting!_ Garrus’s rifle takes out another, before they can reach it. “Ah, it feels good not to deal with Ilium’s bureaucracy and just get straight to the point,” he murmurs over comms.

“Ilium has a bureaucracy?” Ashley snorts. “Funny, I just thought it was a lot of money stacked on top of itself.”

Shepard doesn’t contribute, just hums something Jack finds familiar. Probably Expel 10. Between Jack and Nora charging into battle like krogans, Ashley’s perfectly timed grenades, and Garrus’s cover fire, the Dantius towers don’t stand a chance. It gives Jack a chance to see some of who her new commander is. Even with murder in her eyes, she takes time to look for survivors.

“God, you’re a giant fucking Girl Scout,” she mutters after they save a third group. Nora reloads her clip before answering.

“Yeah. Someone’s gotta be. Right now, the Reapers could be here at any time. One of those people might turn the tide of the war when they show.” Chestnut hair gleaming, Nora turns to look at Jack, eyes deadly. “And they might not. Gives all the more reason to shoot them later, if I find them.”

“Speaking of shooting people, Shepard, don’t forget Rana is on Ilium,” Garrus calls.

“I haven’t.”

The next chance they get, Shepard shrieks as she charges into battle. Piercing and echoing, it doesn’t leave Jack’s thoughts even after they return to the Normandy.

  
\- - -

  
Thane listens. He waits. And when the time is perfect, he acts. Nassana Dantius dies with more mercy than she ever showed others. He expects the interlopers to interrupt him while he prays. One starts to, but another hushes them. When he looks up, the woman in red and black steps forward. “Mr. Krios. I’d like to speak with you about… obtaining your services.”

“I was curious to see how far you’d go to find me,” he murmurs, rounding the desk. “Here I am.” It’s always been his habit to assess people. He’s an assassin. Shepard, surely the only one in N7 armor, strikes him as a decent woman. Decent, but dangerous. Behind her, the others exude their own auras. Tattooed, sneering, body vibrating with adrenaline — a killer without remorse. Scarred, watchful, gun ready — a dutiful soldier with a cause. Irreverent stance, grenade launcher over one shoulder, full of cybernetics — she is harder to read.

“I’m assuming it was the loud noises that tipped you off?” Shepard replies, crossing her arms. “I’m not very subtle. I know. Was it a good distraction?”

“It sufficed,” he drawls, a little amused. “Why would the Savior of the Citadel need my services?”

“See, there’s this big bunch of assholes called the Collectors. They’re the ones abducting entire human colonies,” the robot woman interjects.

And the tattooed woman finishes, “We’re going to show them that was a bad idea by kicking their asses to wherever the hell they came from.”

“You mean the Omega-4 relay? Where no ship has ever returned from?” He has to snort. “Do you tell all your recruits you wish them to commit suicide?”

Shepard laughs. Something about the sound is brittle. “Only the ones who piss me off. I plan on people coming back. I don’t run missions that fail.”

 _Your gaze tells me differently,_ Thane thinks, and tells her, “Yes. A suicide mission will do nicely.”

  
\- - -

  
Okay. Garrus isn’t afraid to admit it. The justicar’s terrifying. And hot. Even if she’s an asari, the ruthlessness makes her very attractive. Apparently, he’s not the only one who thinks so. He watches her stalk into the station, ahead of the detective. Next to him, both Jacob and Nora whisper, “Holy _shit.”_

Now he’s curious. “What? Did she scare you that badly?” he drawls, stepping closer to them. And — odd, again, that scent from Shepard.

“Hell no. Not unless you mean ‘scare’ in an entirely different way,” Jacob answers first, eyes still pinned to Samara through the glass. Nora’s gaze lingers, too. When she turns, her eyes are glazed.

“Yes. I mean, no — I mean —” she babbles for a few seconds before giving up.

Ashley snorts and leans back on a nearby wall, crossing her legs at the ankles. “What she means, ‘Holy shit, that was hot, somebody hose me down.’ Seriously, Nor, you think you have a type?”

That clears Nora’s gaze immediately. “Ash! Seriously?”

The other woman mocks her before answering. “Yeah, I’m serious. I mean, damn, you ever think about your audience? Maybe Garrus gets freaked when you check out girls.”

Jacob snorts. “Does turian language even have a word for gay sex? …can turians even have gay sex?” He squints, eyes fixed on a distant point. “I don’t think I watch enough turian porn to be able to answer that question.”

“Wait, you —” Nora sighs and drags her hand down her face. “I should know better than to follow that line of thought.” But she turns to him, eyes clear and apologetic. “I didn’t think about it, Garrus, and I’m sorry. I haven’t studied turian culture in enough depth to know anything about your concepts of gender and homosexuality. Most of my reading is academic papers, and I’ve never found a turian paper on those things.”

Confused, he taps his translator. “I… don’t think that word came through properly.” He sounds it out, the human sound odd on his tongue. “It usually translates things by concept, not literal meaning, but that might not have an equivalent.”

Ashley laughs and pushes off the wall. “Have fun explaining human identity to Garrus, commander. I’m going to go poke the volus and see if he knows anything extra.” And she wanders off.

“I’m sticking around. I gotta see you explain the whole _gay_ thing,” Jacob mutters, eyes dancing in amusement.

He narrows his eyes again and flares his mandibles in agitation. “Can you stop circling the station and land?”

Nora laughs. “I’m trying, if the others would be quiet. Humans are very focused on being able to label who and what they are. In human culture, we have different words for those attracted to different people.” He blinks. That’s — not expected.

“Really? That’s odd,” he tells her. “I can’t imagine having to change words every time you’re attracted to someone.”

This time, her laugh is louder. “No, it’s not like that. It’s based on categories, sort of. If you’re male, and interested in men, there’s a word for that. If you’re female, and interested in females, there’s a word for that. Interested in both? Word for that. If I was interested only in men, they’d call me straight. That one is slang. Gay is slang for men attracted to men, or women to women.”

Connections finally click into place in Garrus’s brain. “So that’s why you made that joke at Jack on Purgatory!”

“Ah-ahem. Yes. I enjoy word play.” Nora’s dark eyes dart about. “Sorry if that bothers you. The, uh, the other thing. Not the word play.”

Mandibles flaring again, he has to wonder what human culture’s really like, if this is that big of a deal. “Why would it? By your definitions, we have lots of gay sex on turian ships.” Somehow, she chokes on her breath. Jacob guffaws.

“Damn, that is some need-to-know information I did not need to know!” the Cerberus soldier cackles. “I’m going to be right back. I gotta go find a nice, normal porn kiosk with some nice, normal porn, and try to forget that mental image.” He spins on his heel and takes off. Garrus watches him leave, a little amused.

After a minute, Nora catches her breath and speaks again. “Are you — are you pulling my leg? Is that a thing?” She grinds the heel of her palm into her face, clearly agitated. “I mean, it’s a hilarious joke if you are.”

“Humans are strange,” he mutters. “Why should it matter? Sex is sex. Who cares who’s involved?”

“I told you, humans really like being able to identify every facet of their personality,” Nora explains, voice soft. “Myself included. It makes things easier.”

Facial ridges wiggling, he **has** to ask, “And you? Are you solely attracted to biotics?”

“I — hey! I’ve dated non-biotics before!” she protests. “I just… like powerful women! And I identify as —”

“Everyone’s hot as hell. That’s how Nor identifies,” Ashley butts in, coming up behind Shepard and throwing an arm across her shoulders. “You’re hot, I’m hot, she’s hot, everyone’s hot. It’s just more visible when she’s busy being gay as hell.” Nora, usually so very pale, turns a very bright red. “S’why you still haven’t taken your eyes off the justicar’s ass.”

“I have too! I looked at Garrus!” Nora protests, wrestling the arm off her shoulders.

“Oh, you’re admitting you kept looking, though?” Ashley teases.

“Well, yes.” Nora’s eyes glaze over again. “Can you blame me? I mean, holy shit.” And once more, his nose twitches as he smells that… weird Shepard-smell. “Powerful women, okay?”

 _Great spirits._ The thought slams into him like a freighter. _Arousal. I can smell it. Shepard’s — holy **shit**_ **.** Suddenly, every time, every place, he’s ever noticed that scent floods into his mind.

_During battle. Liara’s biotic warp slamming into Nora’s singularity destroyed half a dozen geth in seconds._

_Another battle. Kaidan, out of ammo, amp on cooldown, bodily slamming into one of the Thorian’s minions._

_Purgatory. Jack’s just broken out, biotics raging._

_Thane appearing from the ceiling._

_Samara._

And then, weight of this thought far greater than the others, he remembers.

_Kaidan’s passed out on the mess hall table, coffee cup in hand, when Garrus passes. He snorts, but eases the biotic into a better position before continuing to the food storage. He himself hasn’t been awake long. Finding breakfast takes longer than it should, due to the sleepy haze still fogging his mind. “Father would kill me if he knew it was taking me this long to wake up,” he mutters to himself, walking back towards the elevator. But right now, he’s on the Normandy. They’re in the middle of a FTL transit. He’s as safe as —_

_“Shit!” Someone, warm and soft, collides with him on their way out of the elevator. “Sorry, Garrus, sorry sorry sorry!” Nora gasps, dancing away. He laughs, fully awake now, but brain still not processing well._

_“My fault, Commander.” His voice, still thick with sleep, doesn’t want to come. So he clears his throat and tries again. “Should have been paying better attention. Good thing I didn’t have my armor on, though.” And that remark provokes a peculiar reaction. She eyes him, eyes his casual wear, and her gaze turns dark._

_“Yes. Yes, very good.” And then she darts past him, smelling strange. He watches her go and steps into the elevator with a shrug._

_“Probably the plates. Need to stop scaring humans,” he sighs at the ceiling._

“I — interesting, that you… that humans do this,” he stutters, vainly trying to process his train of thought. Nothing seems to matter to his head right now. It’s just images and scents, like someone put up a firewall.

“Yeah, we’re pretty freaky on a whole,” Ashley tells him, voice still teasing. “Nor’ll calm down soon, though, now that we’ve found her lady love.”

Like someone slamming a gate shut, the flush, the easy smile, Nora’s stance — it all disappears. “We need to track down Rana, and we need to go after that ship’s info. Ash. Find Jacob. Now.”

  
\- - -

  
Jacob’s just finished his report when Ashley shows up, good eye wide, and drags him away from the public terminal. “I think I accidentally pissed Nor off, _hurry up_ ,” she hisses.

“The hell’d you do?” he asks. “I mean, she was fine when I left. Talking about girls with Garrus shouldn’tve done a damn thing.”

“Yeah, well, I may have accidentally mentioned Liara, and… things went south. Hurry up, or she’ll take Miranda instead of you, and then I’m going to be stuck with miss, _‘Ah, yes, Cerberus invented sliced bread.'_ ” Ashley wrinkles her nose. “I think she’s stuck on loop.”

No matter how much Jacob likes Miranda, that one makes him laugh way too hard. “Coming, coming!”

It turns out Ashley went and prodded Pitne For into giving up more information. Unsurprisingly, it ends up leading them to a warehouse full of Eclipse. Jacob has become… almost used to Shepard’s unusual style of battle. One fight, she’ll hang back, the next will find her charging head-on into battle. But as soon as the first enemy crosses their path, he knows what Ashley meant. Two shots, a burst of biotic energy, and she doesn’t even look while she shoots. The mech falls, and she marches on.

“What happened?” he hisses to Garrus. Garrus just shrugs, mandibles flicking helplessly.

An Eclipse vanguard waits for them in the next room, along with gigantic crates. Chemical smell, pungent and powerful, wafts from the crates. Nora ignores it, charging forward and slamming the vanguard into one of the crates. _Kr-crk-ssssssh!_ Red clouds puff from the cracks in the crate. “Nor —” Ashley shouts, thundering towards the commander. She ignores it, delivering a spin kick to the vanguard’s stomach. _KraKOW_! The crate shatters. The vanguard goes flying in a red haze and hits the wall with a meaty thunk. “Holy fuck, Nora, _what the hell?_ That’s —”

Nora just turns and stares Ashley down. It’s the stare Jacob sees turned on enemies, on people she needs to intimidate — never on her crew. Until now. Ashley stops and salutes. “Understood, ma’am,” she bites out, words crisp.

EDI comes over the comms then, warning them about the minagen. Jacob eyes the crates and steps away. Shepard ignores the warning and lets a pulse of biotic power clear the path. Tinges of the haze still linger, but they move on. He tries to ignore the way she walks, like the floor itself needs punished.

  
\- - -

  
One other time Ashley has seen Nora like this — on Eden Prime, when she first saw the dragon’s teeth. It was terrifying then. This commander, who she barely knew, tore into geth and husks like nothing she’d ever seen. Honestly, for a week or so, Ashley hadn’t been able to speak to Nora. The memory of that rage still sits in the back of her mind.

It’s, perhaps, more terrifying now. Knowing how jovial Nora can be just makes her wonder if this constantly hides beneath the commander’s exterior. At this rate, none of the Eclipse will stand a chance. Barriers and shields both crumple, paper-like, mechs fall like dominos, and Nora barely stops to wipe the blood and oil spatter away. What the fuck? is all Ashley has had time to think by the time they exit the first room of the warehouse.

Clouds of the minagen send both her and Garrus into coughing fits. Jacob edges around them, eying the stuff like it might murder him. Nora tramps through, uncaring. Looting the next room seems to calm her. At the edges of her hearing, muffled by the walls, Ashley can hear someone chanting. “Please don’t let them see me, please don’t let them see me…” She doesn’t say a word to Nora.

Futile. Nora hears anyway, when they pass by the door and the sound grows louder. Though the door doesn’t slam by virtue of design, her step in sounds like thunder. An asari pops out, begins babbling, and —

 **Bang!** “Holy fucking _mother of God, **what the hell** , Nora_?” Ashley demands, sprinting to Elnora’s side. Nora holsters her SMG and shrugs.

“Did you forget? Everyone who’s in this warehouse has murdered someone. It’s how this band of Eclipse works.” Shivers run down Ashley’s spine. Shepard’s voice rings so hollow it makes her ache.

“I — you —” Ashley sputters, at a loss for words as Elnora draws a long, burbling breath.

“Fuck you, bitch,” Elnora spits through bloody lips. She exhales and stills, gone.

“Let’s keep moving,” Garrus rumbles, one hand hovering over Nora’s shoulder. The commander barely notices as she turns and leaves. Stairs, and more crates of minagen amid massive piles of merchandise.

Honestly, she goes on autopilot. _I know I mentioned Liara, but what the hell about that made her this mad? Should she even be fighting like this? She’s dangerous._ Another room, and another. Then they come to a wide-open docking bay. On autopilot, Ashley doesn’t notice until it’s too late. The familiar whhhrrrr of a gunship’s engines fill the room — and Shepard doesn’t even pause in her advance. “Nora —”

 _Tngtngtng_! It fires. Dozens of bullets, too many to stop, race towards the commander, unsheltered behind anything… and bounce away. “Good thing I’ve been practicing long distance barriers!” Jacob gasps. His hand flies to his amp and he hisses, yanking his fingers away and blowing on them. Alerted to the ship, Nora spins and biotic energy bubbles out from her.

She misses as the ship flees. “…that was anti-climactic,” Garrus mutters. But they have no time for pondering. More Eclipse and more mechs pour in through the other side of the bay.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus watches Nora. He’s not the only one. He’s seen both Ashley and Jacob eying her. He’s fairly certain — but no. He shouldn’t speculate. Instead, he takes the shot and steals Nora’s kill. Normally, she’d rib him about it. She just kicks it out of her way and marches on.

The next room brings them evidence Elnora killed Pitne For’s partner. “What was that fuss earlier, Ash?” Nora murmurs, her voice a dangerous purr. It reminds him too much of Aria for him to be comfortable.

“I think that’s another docking bay ahead,” he throws out. Breaking the tension and distracting the others seems like a good idea. Regretfully, it’s not the right kind of distraction.

Nora’s face lights up and she growls, “Good. Maybe that gunship will come back for seconds.” Without further ado, she darts from the room. Seconds later, the sound of rapid gunfire proves her right. Ashley swears, almost more creatively than he’s ever heard, and thunders after Nora. Again, it almost feels anti-climactic not to be chasing them at a sprint. But he’s a sniper, not a soldier.

 _KaaaBOOM_! The sound of the rockets gives him shivers. Omega flickers in and out at the edges of his vision — but no. _I_ _survived_ , he reminds himself, settling into position. The commander’s dancing in and out of cover, bright blue warps flying from her hands in sync with Ashley’s grenades. Jacob has the peculiar Collector weapon they picked up on Horizon, and he stays back, eying both Nora and ship warily.

Together they make short work of the gunship. Everyone knows cracking the windshield means it’s a goner. Nora darts out to hurl another handful of energy at it, and the pilot fires one last round.

Or rather, one last rocket. **“** _Shepard_! **”** he hears Jacob roar. Blue crackles out from him, towards Nora. But it’s not enough. She tries to roll forward, out of its trajectory and _**no** nonono she’s not going to make it_

He doesn’t even register the sound the rocket makes because he’s already out of cover, halfway across the docking bay. _Thunk_. The sound is tiny, compared to the explosion. But it’s Shepard’s body hitting crates and flopping against them like a ragdoll. Ashley’s there first, swearing even more stridently than before, in languages his translator can’t decode.

His heart almost bursts from his chest when Nora sits up, nose and forehead bloody, arm clearly dislocated. “Whuzza big fuss?” she asks, wiping the blood from her face.

“You almost got blown to hell, that’s the big fuss!” Ashley scolds. Garrus has to hide the laugh. Like this, she reminds him of his mother. “I’m pretty sure Jacob’s barrier is all that saved your ass.”

Nora shrugs and holds out her good arm. “Help me up.” Ashley, still frowning and fusses, pulls her up. Before she’s fully balanced, Jacob steps forward and — _krkrk_! Human bodies are not supposed to make sounds like that. _“Verdammt,_ Jacob!” she spits. “You could have warned me!”

“Eh, now it’s over with,” Jacob replies with a shrug. “There a reason you guys are swearing in so many foreign languages?”

“She started it,” Ash replies, letting go of Nora. “S’where I picked it up, cause I never had time to study dozens of Earth languages.” Nora rolls her eyes and tests her shoulder.

“It was four, not a dozen. Enough chatter. Let’s move,” Shepard orders. They acquiesce. In the next room, a volus awaits. “You, good sir, are stoned out of your mind.” Nora follows that succinct declaration by thumping the volus across the head. And the leader waits for them, just through the next door.

“Everything’s gone to hell since we smuggled that filthy creature off world,” Wasea declares, strutting around her desk. The rest blurs together a little for Garrus. Hearing one ‘die, intruders!’ speech means you’ve heard them all. He takes advantage of the pause by sliding into cover and prepping his rifle. It settles in, just in time for him to hear her cry, “At least I can take pleasure in turning your head into a pulpy mass!”

If he hadn’t moved, he would have had to dodge the crate she flings. As it is, it’s the perfect opportunity for his opening shout. Wasea stumbles, shoulder bloody. He lines up for another shot —

and misses. Because of Nora. She charges in, snarling, “You want a pulpy mass? I’ll make sure your mother couldn’t recognize you!” And then, as if bid, more Eclipse pour from the side doors, bringing mechs with them.

“Garrus, get that vanguard!” Ashley shouts, wading into the mess, shotgun slinging rounds. He’s already there, but he can’t help watching Nora. And even the mercenaries, here and there, pause for a minute to watch the fight between the two biotics.

 **Boom!** Wasea flies backward, into a wall. Nora follows, body bright purple-blue. Wasea fires off a singularity. Shepard dodges and returns a shockwave before charging forward. The captain barely dodges, but returns fire, yanking Nora towards her with a pull of energy. There’s no sound, but Garrus imagines the meaty _thwack_ when Wasea’s fist crashes into Nora’s face. Staggering, Nora stumbles away. A spin kick charged with biotic energy means she’s the one hitting the wall this time.

Steel crunches around the impact. Nora’s barriers flicker, but hold, and she comes out shrieking. Wasea charges, quieter but no less determined, and they meet with a great crackle of biotic energy. It comes in time with the crack of his rifle. The last mech falls, save for the one Jacob and Ashley are removing from functionality.

 _Aim. Fire._ The first round glances off Wasea’s barrier. But the blue flickers. It dies with Nora’s biotic-charged roundhouse. _Aim. Fire._ Bloody spray everywhere, and she falls. Nora stands over the body, breathing hard, spattered in blood and red dust. She staggers, but doesn’t move.

Breaking from cover, he moves towards her. Halfway there, she looks at him. Her knees buckle, and she turns into a clump of battered armor on the warehouse floor. “ _Nora!_ ”

 

  
\- - -

 

Karin’s reading, peaceful as you please, when the call comes over her comm from EDI. “Dr. Chakwas, please prepare yourself. Shepard is injured. Her ground crew will be here shortly.”

Ten minutes later, she’s gloved up and ready when the door hisses open. Garrus comes in first, arms full of the commander, and settles her on one of the med-bay’s tables. “Will she be okay?” he asks. She hasn’t even touched Shepard.

“I don’t know yet. Heavens, boy, let me look at her first!” she scolds. His mandibles flare — embarrassment, she knows — and he steps back. Ashley tramps in after, shedding her armor.

“Need any help, doc? I’m pretty sure I’ve got some surgical bullshit in my fake hand.” Ashley’s always been forthright. Here, it’s a welcome icebreaker.

“Thank you for the offer, but you’re not quite trained,” Karin replies, opening Shepard’s seals. “Send me Miranda, and distract Garrus. The last thing I need in my infirmary is a fretful turian!” Ashley obeys with wonderful alacrity, dragging Garrus out. When Miranda rushes in, tying her hair up and frantically washing her hands, the last piece of Nora’s armor has finally come free.

Professionalism means Karin doesn’t gasp. She barely even shows shock. But here, on the medical table, she can see how thin Nora is. Setting it aside for later, she goes to work.

  
\- - -

  
Miranda leaves two hours later. Nothing had been particularly awful. Broken ribs, cracked forearm, lacerated biceps and thigh — only the cybernetic spine saved Nora from being paralyzed. It should be no more than a day before she’s up and about, thanks to her implants.

Once in her quarters, Miranda starts the favorite past time of the entire crew: she paces.

  
\- - -

 

Assured of Nora’s survival, Ashley takes Goto with her and returns to the police station. “Justicar Samara, I have the name of the ship your criminal left on.”

“Your return is welcome. But where has Shepard gone?” Samara asks, standing. Even as much as Ashley loves men, she can’t help her mouth going a _little_ dry. Samara’s what every woman wants to look like.

“Shepard… is indisposed. You’ll have to return to the Normandy with me in order to swear your oath to her,” Ashley explains. “She was injured in battle."

“I see. Then I will return with you, miss…?” Samara trails off.

“Ashley Williams. It’ll be an honor to serve alongside you, ma’am.” And Samara follows her, back to the Normandy, where she waits until a bleary Nora wakes. Then she swears herself to Nora. Ashley can’t shake the feeling more history has been made.

  
\- - -

  
Waking in the med bay throws Nora off. But the drugs mean she sleeps well for the first time in… too long. Samara comes at some point and swears herself to her. It’s a very hazy memory, but Nora trusts it.

A day and a half after her showdown, she’s ready to fight again. So she shoos Chakwas off and returns to duty, mind set on one thing. _Maybe I was wrong. Please, let me be wrong._ Garrus, Ashley, and Mordin accompany her onto Ilium… just in case. Missions done, Rana turned into the police, she finishes Liara’s task. Heart in her throat, Nora steps back into the office, data in hand.

“Thank you, Shepard. This will be… very useful,” Liara tells her.

And that’s all. She doesn’t come around the desk for a hug. She doesn’t try to arrange a date. _Nothing._ Shepard flees, as professionally as she can. Garrus, Ash, and Mordin watch her go, and follow.

“Would you —” she takes a deep breath. “I have some things I need to deal with back on ship. Would you go pick up Ashley’s skin? The doctor put a rush order on it for me. It should be done.”

“Already?” Ashley asks. “Damn, it’s only been three days.” Nora nods, heart hurting and throat closed up too badly to speak.

“On it, Nora. See you back on the Normandy,” Garrus murmurs.

Corridor, airlock, elevator — and then she’s in her room. Where it’s safe to break down. All of her falls apart as she crumbles into her couch, eyes strangely dry. “What did I do, Liara? I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she mutters. Great sobs follow, shaking her body as she curls into herself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough,” she whispers into her knees, the words thick with snot and tears.

  
\- - -

  
Ashley watches Nora go. She’s certain something is wrong. Nora doesn’t just _leave_ like that. But sometimes, people need to be alone. So she clears her throat and motions at her partners. “Let’s go.”

“You go ahead. I have some business,” Garrus growls. Living with him for so long lets her read him — anger, tight and hot, in the press of his mandibles to his jaw.

“Don’t blow anyone’s head off. Ask Nora for permission first,” she jokes. He just stalks away. “…okay, now I think he actually might.”

“No. Not all anger injurious. Protective anger, I believe. Shall we find your skin?”

  
\- - -

  
Nyxeris tries to stop him. It’s a valiant effort. But he already has a bypass program keyed up on his omnitool, and the door’s open seconds later. “No interruptions,” he growls at her, and stalks inside. Liara’s sitting at her desk, room dark, tapping away at something on her terminal.

“Hello, Garrus. I thought you might come to see me. I’m doing my best to make sure the bounty on Archangel is called off,” she says, not even bothering to look up.

“I don’t give a damn about that bounty,” Garrus barks at her. Quick strides take him to the front of her desk, where he leans on it and towers as menacingly as possible. “Do you realize what you’re doing to Shepard?”

“Yes.” Liara looks up at him. He expects callous disregard, uncaring eyes — instead, the pretty eyes are full of pain. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“You don’t. She needs you, Liara. She’s — look, I’m not a human expert.” He breathes out, tries to think of what to say. “You don’t know what’s going on. You didn’t see her break down in her cabin after Kaidan called her a traitor, after colonists tried to mob her. All you’re doing is…”

When he mentions the breakdown, her eyes sharpen. When he mentions the colonists, they turn dangerous. And then she interrupts. “All I’m doing, Garrus, is saving her from a mistake.” Mandibles flaring, he tries to interrupt in turn, but she barges onward. “Do you know how asari mate? Have you forgotten so soon? We shared minds. I know exactly how this is likely to affect her.”

Angry beyond belief, he curls one taloned hand into a fist and slams it into her desk. “Do you?” he hisses, subharmonics going wild.

“Yes, I do!” she barks back, standing. “I saw _every thought_ she has _ever_ had! Have you, Garrus? Have you sifted through memories where it was a struggle to continue breathing, where everything is your fault, and you are useless? Have you tasted the absolute despair of someone who knows they will never do anything worthwhile? Seen and felt the pain of someone who wants to die because death means rest?”

Although he cannot help the step back as she leans forward, voice fervent, his anger doesn’t fade. “I haven’t. But I’ve seen enough. I’ve felt enough on my own to hazard a guess. And I can’t understand how you would justify being so cold to Nora.”

She turns and opens a window, looking out over Ilium and wrapping her hands around each other behind her back. “It is better in the long-term. I love her, and she me. But when I saw into her mind — I am not who she needs. We are too alike. She never wanted to be a soldier. She commands because she must, not because of love of it.” Half-turning, she catches his eye over her shoulder. “What she needs… someone who can save her from thinking so much. Someone who will help her, ease her way, and hold her when they must. I think too much on my own. We might have been happy for a long time. But this — this will be better for her.”

“Will it?” Garrus growls, low in his throat. “Hard to see how it could be if Doctor Chakwas can’t keep her alive long enough.”

More quickly than he expects, she spins and stares him down. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s lost too much weight already. She told me it was the new implants, the new biotic amp — but it can’t be. Not entirely.” He shakes his head, lets his harmonics adopt the mournful flair he’s resisted when thinking about it. “You didn’t see how thin she is out of her armor.”

Liara inhales. “I… I see. I hadn’t realized…” She sighs. “I still cannot aid you in this, Garrus. It is better if I remain distant.” At her terminal again, she taps on her keyboard with one hand before pulling up her omni-tool. “Forwarding information on human depression to you, as well as to Doctor Chakwas. I’m sure she doesn’t need it, but it may prove useful. Give your copy to whoever you think could use it best on ship. I believe there’s a Cerberus operative with a medical degree…?” she trails off.

He can’t help the snort. “Miranda? Yeah, no. She might be helpful. But she’s not any more subtle than Shepard.” He leaves, still angry, and he understands no more than when he entered. But he pauses at the door. “Liara. I don’t need to threaten you.”

“No, you don’t.” Walking back to the Normandy, he sighs at himself.

“Threatened to tattle on me to my father, and here I am, still trying to be nice,” he mumbles. _Spirits, what am I doing?_ The firewall of image and sound from the day before yesterday has faded. Now, he just feels… peculiarly protective. Too many thoughts in his head, too many about Nora, and he just wants to stop thinking for a little while.

\- - -

  
Kasumi hums, working through the layers of encryption on the Cerberus files Shepard asked for. Across the room, a faint **ding!** tells her her other project is finished. “Oooh, Shepard’s private terminal, all mine,” she coos to herself, reaching for the datapad.

None of what she finds is what she expected. Business messages — yes. Curt, informational, and useful, but not juicy. “Ah, there’s the letter about me,” she mumbles, scrolling. But there is not a _single_ personal message in the entire inbox. There’s not even anything in the deleted items — which she made sure to set to recover.

All she finds is a half-dozen letters in the drafts folder. She opens the first one, feels bad for a minute, and then goes on to the next. They’re all addressed to Dr. T’soni. Every single one reveals parts of Nora she doesn’t want to know about. Staring at the screen makes her feel better, makes her mind blank — until a seventh letter appears in the drafts.

_Last modified: 27 seconds ago._

She shouldn’t open it. But she does.

_Liara_

_Liara why what did I d o wrong please tell me I miss you so much and nothing is like home any more all the homes I’ve ever had are dead and gone first it was Adelio and then akuze took him and now it’s you and death took you away from me or maybe I was the problem I had to be_

_I'm sorry I’m msorry so sorry please come back_

_please liara I can’t breathe without yo u_

 

Grief, she knows too well. But this… “Well, shit,” she mumbles, staring at the screen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. this chapter is a little wild, so I'll explain a little bit. depression, especially long-term depression, manifests in a lot of ways, and can even be taken for bipolar disorder. I wanted to portray exactly how upset Nora is about Liara just brushing her off. this is who Nora's been dreaming of, and now she's been robbed of even that dream of love and care. I don't know how well it comes across, but the Samara quest's violent Nora is less about real "violence" and more about Nora being very, very suicidal and reckless.


	6. From the Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda discovers a little bit more of Shepard. Garrus... doesn't know what to do. And Nora's dislike for Cerberus only grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing particularly triggery here. Little bit of pre-relationship stuff. 
> 
> Covers Miranda's loyalty mission and takes us off Ilium. Shorter than usual -- honestly, I just wanted to remotivate myself by posting.

When Karin wakes up, she has two things on her agenda for the day: a shower, and something more dangerous. The shower gets out of the way quickly. But she stalls the second item with breakfast, watching the elevator. _Please, don’t make me go up there._ But the person she waits for never appears. So she finishes her toast and pushes away from the table with a sigh. Krios watches her go, fingers steepled.

Elevator rides make Karin antsy. They always have. This one is no different as she rides up to Shepard’s cabin. No sooner has the elevator clicked into place than EDI warns her, “The commander has enabled privacy protocols, Doctor. I will inform her of your arrival.”

“No need,” she murmurs. Seconds later, her override code has the door open. _At least Cerberus follows Alliance protocol on that_. She walks into the cabin, expecting exactly what she sees. Clothing and armor scatter the floor, along with more than one datapad. On the bed, the comforter looks like nothing more than a great wad of cloth. One pale foot peeks out from under the mountain, though. “Commander. I’m here to debrief you on your treatment,” she barks, voice crisp as she stalks into the room and starts picking up clothing.

Instantly, the comforter flies from the bed. Karin barely dodges. Nora sits in the middle of her bed, fist raised and body pulsing blue-purple. “…Karin?” she mumbles, lowering her fist. “I’m recovered. Why are you up here?”

“Even if I _was_ talking about your physical injuries, you’re not. No firefights for at least a day.” She sets three shirts aside, clearly sweat-stained and dirty, before continuing to fold the others. “I’m talking about your depression.”

“What — I’m — **Garrus,”** Nora growls. Still, she doesn’t move from where she sits on her bed. “I’m fine, but I’m going to kill him!”

“What on earth for?” Karin asks, shaking out a pair of pants she’s never even seen the commander wear.

“Tattling! Turian _asshole!”_

Karin’s eyebrows both go high. “Garrus told me nothing I didn’t already know. Indeed, he’s spoken to me a half dozen times since he came aboard ship, and most of those were about his scarring. Do you think me a fool? You’re barely fifty-eight kilos, and I’ve no doubt more of that is implants.” Clothes separated and folded, she moves on to the desk, littered with datapads. “I’m not trained for therapy. But you don’t serve as long as I do without knowing some things.”

“Listen, I’m fine,” Nora argues. Finally, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands. Someone less observant might not have noticed the tremor in her hands, or the way she pales when she stands. “I’m just —”

 _“Nora Katherine Shepard,_ you are not pulling the wool over my eyes!” the doctor snaps. “This discussion is all a moot point. I’ve already dosed you. I’m just here as part of professional courtesy.”

Nora tries to spin from the wardrobe, as Karin’s seen her do so often. But vertigo overcomes her. She stumbles, catching herself on the bedside table. “You **what,** Doctor Chakwas?” she hisses. Anger does little good when her face remains bone-white.

 _Rssrp!_ Karin unseals a ration bar and hurls it underhand at the commander, who can’t help but catch. “Eat that, or you’ll be in the med bay for the foreseeable future.” Nothing happens, Nora clutching the bar and glowering. “I’ve put in a basic emergency depression implant. It’ll have effects within three days. I’ll be taking shore leave while on Ilium to retrieve more supplies.”

“Like hell you will,” Shepard growls. Somehow, her tearing into the ration bar gives the statement less weight.

“As I told Miss Lawson, I am still technically Alliance, here under my own free will. Do try to stop me,” Karin says breezily. “Now, I have other business to attend to. Eat, Commander, or I will strap you down in the med bay with IVs.” She backs out of the cabin, now far cleaner and more organized, and slumps against the wall when the door closes. “Why did I decide on this profession again?”

  
\- - -

  
Samara walks the ship, and watches. Her life has taught her much. But this ship fascinates her. Life ebbs and flows, eddies like a river. Something about it revitalizes her. She sits in the mess hall, and watches people come and go. Miss Williams comes, all jokes and easy camaraderie, followed by the older mercenary man. One girl, coiffed and prim, introduces herself as Miranda Lawson before leaving. The young soldier she met with Shepard — Mr. Taylor? — passes through, barely clothed and sweaty. More than one person fans themselves after he leaves.

For a time, it is unremarkable. Then the doctor passes through, clearly on edge about something. She lingers on her food too long before disappearing into the elevator. Halfway through the doctor’s lingering over her scrambled eggs, the drell assassin appears. On him, Samara senses calm. Not the false calm of so many, but the easy calm of someone who has found balance and seeks to keep it. Garrus comes next. Samara studies him as long as she can, eyes sharp on him. He greets her courteously, but seems preoccupied with something on his omnitool.

No appearance of the ship’s apparent resident scientist comes till nearly halfway through the day. Then a pretty human redhead comes from the elevator and hails the chef with a smile and, “Hey! Do you have Mordin’s food ready?”

He hands over a plate and flirts gently before the girl departs. Lunch comes. Miss Williams, a krogan, and a slip of a girl tumble from the elevator together. All but the krogan sport new bruises. And — yes. Biotic power ripples through the girl’s aura. Samara has met commandos with less power than this girl.

Dining hall emptied of the lunch rush, chef gone on a break, Samara allows herself to crack a smile and calls quietly, “I know you are there. You hide well.”

Quiet crackling signals the deactivation of a tactical cloak. “Kasumi Goto, at your service. No offense, but I like to get a bead on people.”

“No offense is taken. It is the measure of a good warrior who assesses those they serve with.” Samara tilts her head and glances over Miss Goto. “I see you have done so for everyone here. Am I in the wrong to think you have seen every secret this ship holds?”

Sly and neat, the smile answers her perfectly. “Not every secret. Not yet. But secrets are my business.” A pause. “Well, that and theft. But I don’t think Shepard would take kindly to me thieving her things.”

“Indeed.” They sit in silence for a time. Samara lets herself slip into meditation. This ship — yes, she has its measure.

  
\- - -

  
Page after page of information, all neatly condensed, pour into Garrus’s brain. Somehow, Liara managed to sum up everything in a way both completely terrifying and logical. And reading — _great spirits_. More and more of Nora, especially recently, makes sense. About a quarter of the way through, he transfers all the information to a datapad, gives up on calibrating, and devours it. More than a few sentences slap him in the face.

 _Many people who suffer from long-term depression remain notoriously private. Even when being treated, they believe themselves to be unworthy of mention._ He stares at the wall too long after that one. He cannot name overmuch about Nora. She grew up on Earth, and survived Akuze, and… he cannot think of much else about her. Most of it is public knowledge. She’s a few years older than him, he knows. She loathes spiders (despite saving the rachni queen). But he cannot name her birthdate. He doesn’t know for sure if she’s ever had the human version of a bondmate.

 _Erratic behavior and emotions may be present, or even become expected. These include, but are not limited to, extreme irritability, general hostility, excessive crying, extreme apathy, and self-inflicted social isolation._ Garrus breathes, long and slow, and tries not to relive that entire damn warehouse.

 _Perfectionist behavior may also be present, followed by negative emotion due to the inability to achieve perfection_. More than one thing flickers through his thoughts. How many times has Nora berated herself, out loud, after a firefight? It’s amusing. It always is. But — and then he remembers what she said in her cabin. “It’s not very professional.” _Professional. **Perfect.**_

About halfway through, his heart hurts too much to continue. The datapad he stows under the calibrations console. The thoughts stay, rattling around his brain like damnable dice.

  
\- - -

  
Miranda scrambles onto the Normandy, frantically refreshing her omnitool, looking for _something anything this can’t be happening no not Oriana_ and nothing comes.

For the first time, she curses the elevator. It’s not a long ride. But she has one, **one,** chance at finding out what’s gone wrong. And she’s not about to blow it. Not with Ori on the line.

Shepard’s cabin door opens to display a disheveled, clearly grumpy commander. “Miranda.”

“Shepard. I — I’m so sorry, commander, but I have to ask a favor. Can I — do you mind if I take a couple of the crew to investigate something?” she asks, twisting her hands together.

Nora’s frown doesn’t bode well. “Is this the same thing you needed shore leave for?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“I…” She thinks of obscuring the truth. But there’s nothing shameful in it. “Do you remember me telling you about… about my sister?” Nora nods, a single sharp jerk. “My father was getting close to her, so I moved her. But my contact’s gone silent. I just need to take Jacob, and investigate, but —”

“No.” Nora’s bark stops her short. “You’re not taking Jacob.” Miranda’s heart stops, along with her breathing.

 _Oriana, I swear I’m coming for you, I don’t care if I have to do it alone —_ and then her train of thought careens out of control.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. Go get your armor. Meet me at the airlock. Half an hour, max.” The door slides shut just in time. Miranda’s knees give out and she tumbles to the floor.

“Thank you,” she whispers to the door.

  
\- - -

  
Thane returns to life support and pulls up a book. Two chapters in, the door slides open to admit Shepard, hard-eyed despite her pallor. “Thane. I need you with me, if you will. Loadout in airlock, twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Commander,” he rumbles in reply. She nods and retreats. Before his door closes, he hears her calling for someone else.

Armor on, favorite rifle in hand, he’s at the airlock five minutes early. Operative Lawson stands there, fidgety and clearly nervous. “Good day,” he greets her. She just returns a nod.

Three minutes later, the commander joins them. “We’re ready to go, as soon as Kasumi shows.”

“Why, Shep. I’ve been ready,” comes a voice from the corner. Thane knew _someone_ was there, just not who. Shepard just rolls her eyes and smacks the airlock’s keypad.

“I don’t have a lot of mission details. Assuming covert operations would be best. Someone’s intercepted a transport. Our job is to fix that.” The airlock depressurizes, and Nora nods to Operative Lawson. “Miranda, brief us, if you will.”

Miranda babbles. It’s the most human Thane has ever seen her. But he gets the gist. Ten minutes later, they soar over Ilium in a skycar. Luck isn’t on their side. They end up crashing in a cargo terminal, to the accompaniment of Shepard shouting obscenities at the Eclipse mercs below. Laughing would be inappropriate, so he chuckles into his sleeve and slips into the shadows.

Acoustics means he can hear Miranda and Shepard over the buzz of machinery in the terminal. “You’re not firing on me, so I assume you know who I am,” Miranda calls, marching forward.

“Yeah. They said you’d be in the car. You’re the bitch who kidnapped our bosses’ little girl,” the leader snarls, spitting on the ground and swaggering. Again, Thane has to hide a laugh. The man is too sure of himself.

“Kidnapped? Look, this doesn’t involve y—” Miranda starts. Shepard interrupts, pushing past her.

“Kidnapped? Is that what you call rescuing an innocent child from the clutches of a deranged madman?” Nora spits. From here, he can see the gleam in her eyes. “Tell me, Eclipse, how are you going to feel about yourself when the truth comes out? When you see the news of Henry Lawson’s daughter dying oh-so-tragically?”

“The hell are you saying, girl?” the leader growls.

“I’m saying, give up. I’m saying, walk away. I’m Spectre Shepard, and I wouldn’t be here if Miss Lawson had kidnapped anyone.” She turns, eyes still on the leader, and motions Miranda forward. “Tell me, merc, have you seen the girl you’re rescuing? Miss Lawson’s her big sister. She barely escaped. Henry Lawson forced her to have surgery, have genetic modification... things better left unsaid. Do you want to send someone into a hell-hole like that?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, woman, I’m getting paid for one thing. I don’t get paid for morals.”

“Does your money absolve you, then? Can you wash the bloodstain and misery off your credits?” Shepard spits. “Go ahead. Try it. See how that feels.”

Silence fills the terminal. Thane checks his sights and settles in, drawing a bead on the combat engineer near the back of the pack. “Fine. Listen, I can’t call off everyone. They don’t answer to me. But my squad’s… shit, I’m a merc, not a monster.”

“Thank you,” Shepard breathes, walking forward and setting a hand on his shoulder. “Get off Ilium. This isn’t the place for mercs with minds.”

And then the cargo terminal clears out. “Remarkable,” Thane breathes.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi watches the commander carefully, _so carefully_ , during their outing to help Miranda. She’s wan, thin, but nothing seems to point to the incoherency of that last message. She talks the first band of mercs down with considerable skill, even as Kasumi stands behind the leader, ready to take his throat. In the next room, more mercs lounge about. Shepard bursts into their midst with a shockwave of energy, sending them flying.

In the elevator, Kasumi even catches her humming under her breath. It’s a nonsense tune. And it’s odd. “Sorry for trying to talk those mercs down, but if we can keep from killing a few people…” Nora shrugs. “Plus, it means there’s some people out there with information to begin discrediting your father. Rumor mill, right?”

Miranda looks at Shepard, eyes narrow, and nods. “You’re not angry I didn’t tell you more about Oriana?”

“You’re assuming I didn’t know,” Nora says, laugh easing the words. “You told me enough for me to infer the rest. The age is a bit of a surprise, but the rest makes sense.” Kasumi glances at Thane and catches the amusement in his eyes, just as she sees the shock on Miranda’s face.

“What — but how —” Miranda stammers.

“You told me you rescued her and planted her with a foster family. If she was your age, she wouldn’t have needed rescuing. She would have helped you. If she was over ten or twelve, you could have sent her to a biotic academy. Thus, she had to be below that age. You also told me your mother was dead, and your father cloned you. You mentioned nothing about a remarriage. Bam.” The longer Shepard speaks, the more Miranda gapes. Nora finally glances over her shoulders and scoffs. “What? I’m suicidal, not stupid.”

“You — _what?”_ Miranda demands. But just then the elevator doors click open to a greeting team of mercs.

Twenty minutes later, a message comes over the communicator Miranda swiped from a body. “Divert all troops, except my guard, from Niket. I’ll handle him and the kid personally.”

Miranda breaks into a run. Kasumi can practically see the heat from her amp, pulsing beneath her skin, as she… well, she pulls a Shepard. She charges into a giant group of mechs and lashes out, slamming every one of them to the ground. “Easy, killer!” Nora calls, finishing three mechs with quick rounds to the head. Kasumi takes care of a couple, and Thane… is humming.

 _Why does everyone hum?_ she wonders, but Miranda’s charging again before her amp is even cool.

  
\- - -

  
Evidently, the captain’s picked up on the comm leak. Nothing else comes over it. And then they reach the roof. Nora’s ready for a fight. Captain Enyala sounds formidable. The elevator doors open… to a peaceful scene. A tan young man stands, arguing with two asari. One wears heavy armor. The other wears… well, it’s a pretty tacky uniform, honestly.

“…Niket?” Miranda asks, stepping out of the elevator. Her voice breaks as she whispers, “You sold me out?” Enyala rises, pulling her shotgun. The quiet hiss of Kasumi’s tactical cloak and the reassuring slide of a sniper rifle behind her means she’s ready, but not on edge. The uniformed asari mutters something and flees.

“Loose end,” Enyala sighs and shoots. Nora bristles and throws her hand out, erecting a barrier — it’s barely fast enough to save the asari.

“Why, Niket? You helped me escape my father,” Miranda asks, voice still shuddering.

“I helped you because you wanted to leave!” Niket answers. “If I knew you’d stolen a baby —”

“Stolen? _Stolen?!”_ Miranda’s voice echoes from the rafters. “I didn’t steal her! I rescued her!”

“From a life of wealth and happiness?” he spits. “You weren’t saving her —”

“Or was she, Niket?” Nora growls, stepping forward. “Have you ever, in your life, seen a psychological study of the effects of affluence? People who are raised with money are more likely to be selfish, cruel, and hard on the environment. The richest and poorest people are the two most likely groups to have extreme, life-altering drug addictions.” She stops, halfway to Niket, and rests her hand on her hip. “Just because you see something doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I don’t care! It’s —” Niket gets interrupted again, this time by Thane.

“Stability will be important. Regardless of the ethics of her removal, this child has lived with one family for many years now. Would you tear that apart?” he rumbles. Nora lets herself enjoy the low tones, just for a second, before snapping back to business.

“This has to end here. My father will keep trying to find Oriana,” Miranda says, her voice close to a sob.

“Look, maybe we can talk Niket into helping,” Nora says over her shoulder before turning her gaze on him. “Can we, Niket?”

“I’ll…” He pauses, but something clicks. “I’ll tell him you hid her, that I don’t know where she went.” He steps forward, eyes plaintive. “Listen, Miri.”

“Don’t call me that!” she shouts. “I never want to see —”

 ** _Foomp._** Niket stumbles and falls, a great hole in his chest. “Taken care of,” the captain snarls. And then battle comes. It is an interesting fight, if not an easy one. Half a dozen times Enyala closes on Nora, ready to end it. She never does.

When they emerge into the docking bay, Oriana sticks out. She’s the only one in the entire bay who looks like Miranda — and she holds herself with the same poise. Miranda deflates, all the stress disappearing as she whispers, “There she is. Safe… with her family.” They stand there for a minute before Miranda recovers herself and murmurs, “We should go.”

Nora blinks at her. “You’re not even going to say hello?” Miranda moves to speak, but the expression on her face — Nora cuts her off. “I don’t know what you’re about to say, but I can tell it’s a load of crap. You live a dangerous life, yes. But she’s your _sister._ Let her know you’re watching, that you care, that she has someone else out there.”

“It’ll only complicate things!” Miranda protests.

Nora sighs and steps closer. “Will it? Just… go say hello, for me, Miranda.” Suddenly, it’s as if all her energy leaves, and she can feel the fatigue in her bones. “Not everyone has this opportunity. Don’t waste it.”

She doesn’t.

  
\- - -

 

When Ashley wakes, she finds a message on her omnitool.

_You’ve got shore leave, if you want it._

_Nora_

What else can she do but take advantage? She only has her ship casuals, but it’ll do. She’s not wearing that dress ever again. Zaeed goes with her, and so does Jacob. Both of them veer off once they’re out of the airlock. (Honestly, she’s pretty sure they’ll both end up in bars hitting on girls.)

Nobody looks at her. It’s a change from when she was on the Citadel, and even when she was on Ilium the past few days. Cybernetic eyes are hardly rare — or at least, less rare than a head full of robotic bits. So she lingers. Lunch overlooking the skyline. A stop for something a little dressier, but less repugnant than the dress. Another shop, full of guns she’ll never be able to afford.

Lingering done, she turns her path towards Liara’s office. She has a bone to pick.

  
\- - -

  
“Doctor, a Miss Ashley Williams to see you?” Nyxeris’s voice comes over the intercom. Liara can’t help the little jump. Spending hours absorbed in evidence of possible espionage and organizing it does that.

“Yes. Let her in,” she replies and settles back into her chair. Seconds later, the door admits Ashley. “I see you were able to have your skin rush ordered. You look well,” she greets her. Ashley saunters around the office, touching things on the shelves, before turning to her.

“It’s a nice change from being the six billion dollar man.” She blinks and adds, “Well, really that’s Nora, but… anyway.”

“Speaking of Shepard, I’m assuming she sent you for data?” Liara asks, leaning over her console. “What does she need?”

All Ashley’s new skin crinkles a little differently than the old when she scowls and marches towards the desk. “Information? Pff. What she needs is for her lover to be on the Normandy. Mind telling me what’s so important that you abandon her?”

“I told you and Nora both, I’m fighting the Shadow Broker —” Liara starts. Ashley doesn’t let her finish.

“And you can do that from a ship!” Ashley leans back and scoffs, crossing her arms. “I guess that doesn’t matter, though. Never mind the part where your girlfriend just almost died _again_ three days ago, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of you.”

All Liara’s thoughts slide to an abrupt halt. “What?” she gasps, air suddenly at a premium.

“Your sources not tell you?” Ashley rolls her eyes. “Here. I’ll lay it out nice and easy. Nora was in a pretty decent mood until I mentioned you. I mentioned you. Then she proceeded to charge headfirst into every vanguard the Eclipse have, slam into crates of minagen, and try catching a rocket _with her face_.” Under her breath, she mutters something that sounds like _Garrus shouldn’t be a trendsetter_ , but Liara’s still reeling.

“She — no. Garrus didn’t tell me yesterday. I — I had no idea.” Immediately her fingers dance across the keys. “Where was this? Minagen is dangerous. And… and…” Liara gives up on trying to force thoughts into her brain. Hands slowing, she takes a breath. It does nothing. So she drops her head into her hands and moans, “By the goddess, what have I done?”

“That’s a great damn question,” Ashley snarls. “Go make it up to her.”

“I can’t!” Liara sighs into her palms.

Silence, and then, “I could have sworn I just heard a ‘can’t’. Like hell you can’t!”

“It’s for her own good!” Ashley doesn’t respond for a minute.

 _Ptuh!_ is the next thing Liara hears. “The fuck it is.” And then the door hisses open. “Let me know if you feel like being a decent sapient being anytime soon, T’soni.”

“I’m sorry, Nora. But I saw it all. I saw Adelio, and I saw Earth. I have to do this,” Liara tells the empty room, hands still cradling her face. “Goddess, forgive me.”

  
\- - -

  
Joker expects the unexpected. It’s happened ever since he met Shepard.

He almost jumps out of his skin when Garrus comes up to the cockpit and taps his shoulder, though. “Jesus, Garrus, warn a man!” he half-scolds. “You could have broken something!”

“Sorry to bother you while you’re calibrating flight algorithms,” Garrus rumbles. Joker has to roll his eyes.

“I’m just recalculating trajectories. You and Ash are the resident calibrators,” he grouses, swinging his chair back around. “What do you need, big guy? If you’re pissed because Shepard didn’t take you out —”

“Wait, what? Nora went out?” It’s the most alarmed he’s ever heard Garrus. He glances over his shoulder — ah, yup. There’s the wide mandibles and tiny pupils. Definitely shock.

“Yeah. You didn’t know?” He frowns at the trajectory, adjusts a point, and runs it again. The sixteenth simulation has been the smoothest so far, but he wants it smoother. Hence why he’s on simulation forty-one. “Went out like, two hours ago, with Miranda and Thane. I thought I heard Kasumi, but who knows? Kasumi does what Kasumi wants.”

“I see.” Aaaand that’s the danger rumble. Distraction time.

“Yup. Hey, did you know there’s a documentary about the whole…” he throws his hands in the air and wobbles them about, trying to find the words. “…Saren mess? I heard they’re making a movie, too. I mean a real one. Not a Blasto one.”

“That’s great. Listen, Joker, do me a favor —” and then the turian’s voice cuts out entirely. “Actually, never mind.” He cranes his neck around and watches Garrus speed-walk down the bridge.

“Huh. Wonder what that’s about?”

  
\- - -

  
Garrus makes it halfway down to the medbay before his omnitool dings with a message. Everything in him sighs with relief when it’s Nora.

_Hey._

_I need to do some last minute shopping on Ilium, and Miranda won’t let me wander around alone. Everyone else is already on shore leave, except for Joker, who isn’t going to do much good in a fight. (Miranda is convinced I’ve made enemies on Ilium. (I WONDER HOW THAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED?)_

_Message me back if you’re okay with being my escort. Otherwise, I’m probably going to have to hunt down Ash. I am fairly sure she went off looking for bookstores, and possibly boys. I’d rather not interrupt that._

_Nora_

Instantly, he opens a comm link to her. Seconds later, her face pops up on the screen, looking a little confused. “You rang?”

“Of course I’ll go with you. It’s not even a question,” he tells her, hurrying back to the elevator. “Where did you go? I couldn’t find you on ship.”

“Eh, Miranda wanted an intimidating escort for some family business. Nothing too wild,” she answers, a smile creeping across her face. “I’m not far from the Normandy now.”

“I’ll be out of the airlock in five,” he rumbles. “See you there?” She nods and grins before shutting the call down. Joker cranes his neck around the chair and eyes him strangely when he leaves the ship, but he really doesn’t care. When he exits, he can see Shepard’s red and black armor all the way down the hallway, near the end. He doesn’t run, per se, but he doesn’t waste time.

“…how to really handle that gun,” is the first thing he hears when he closes on Nora. It’s a human man he’s never seen before, taller than Nora by a fair bit. He looms over Shepard, face set in a familiar lusty expression Garrus has seen too often on the Citadel.

“You have exactly ten seconds to put a star system between me and you,” he hears Nora spit. “Otherwise, not only will I acquaint my gun with your rectal cavity, you’ll find out how many different ways I can use my biotics to make you tapdance.” Her voice, flat and displeased, gives him unpleasant recollections of the warehouse.

“Oooh, you like it rough, huh?” the man says, leering even harder. Blue-purple courses over Nora’s skin as she steps forward — and Garrus knows he has to step in.

Settling one hand on her shoulder, he murmurs, “Now, I don’t think they’ll let us back on Ilium if we brutalize anyone else, Shepard.” She turns, biotics fading, and grins up at him.

“They might!” she greets him, words bright.

“Pff,” the man mutters, following his words with a literal mouthful of spit. “Should’ve known. All the pretty girls want these days is alien — _ggrhlk!”_ Nora moves almost too quickly for Garrus to see. The result is biotics rippling back over her skin and wrapping around the stranger’s throat, suspending him in the air.

“Finish that sentence,” she growls. “I dare you.” With the biotics choking off his air, all the man can muster is hacking and vain gasps for air. “That’s what I thought.” He drops to the ground, drawing in great draughts of air. “Leave. Before I decide to report you to the police on this **alien** -run world.”

He takes off at a run, still choking. Garrus can’t help opening his omnitool and scanning the man. Almost instantly, a dossier comes up. _Petty theft. Of course._

“Sorry. Anyway…” Nora hums, turning back to him. “There’s a couple of shops I want to stop by. We didn’t have the funds to buy what I wanted everywhere, and then we…” she eyes her surroundings before whispering, “Kicked the shit out of all the Eclipse on Ilium.” He can’t contain the snort of laughter.

“And now we do? Convenient,” he drawls. “Lead on, fearless commander.”

“Don’t you mean crazy commander?” she laughs, beckoning him forward. He falls into step beside her. Humming touches his ears after a minute of walking. The sound relaxes him — it means she’s a little closer to being the real Nora. Halfway down an emptier passage, she suddenly says, “Garrus?”

“Nora?” he replies, flicking his mandibles as he turns his head down toward her.

Foosteps and the low hum of other voices echo in the tunnel for a solid minute. Then she sighs, pulls her braid over her shoulder, and starts fiddling with the bottom. “I… the other day… shit.” She glances up at him and laughs, derisive and short. “I’m bad at this. But I’m sorry. I lost my mind a little bit the other day. And it got worse when…” She trails off.

“Really? I didn’t notice,” he grumbles. “It’s not like you almost got yourself killed on a fairly routine mission.” He catches a glimpse of her eyes rolling. The silence returns, this time far more awkward.

“But. Yeah. I, uh, I wanted to apologize for that. And the telling your father thing,” she finally mumbles. “I’m kind of a mess. Always have been. Humans are weird, yeah, but I’m probably closer to the top of the weird list than I’d like.” Another silence, followed by her saying, “I — my brain, you see —”

Beneath the hum of her voice, he can hear the taut wire it hovers over. He chuffs a breath and reaches out, resting his hand on her head. She stills. Her braid falls from fidgety fingers, the seal snapping. “Nora.”

“Garrus.” Her voice remains rough, but seems a little smoother.

“That warehouse had me _terrified_ for you. But so did Saren. Commander Shepard’s conquered a lot more than a bit of bad brain chemistry. This won’t keep you down.” On her next inhale, she almost chokes on something that sounds like a sob.

“I — you —” she turns, pulling his hand from her head and looking up at him. Eyes, too bright, full of the tear-sheen, catch him. “Thank you, Garrus. _Thank you_.” She cradles his hand in both of hers. Even through the glove, he can feel the heat of her skin. Biotics run hotter, he’s noticed. But more of his attention is focused on how his hand nearly dwarfs both of hers.

He smiles at her, mandibles flaring, and — “Hey, beautiful! What’re you messin’ around with a turian for? I can show you how real Earthlings do it!” another man boasts, strutting up to them. Perfectly synced, their heads swing toward him. Almost as perfectly synced, their hands land on their assault rifles.

“For one, I grew up on Earth, asshat,” Shepard snarls. “For two, _get lost_.”

He looks between them — finally sees the Mantis on Garrus’s back, the grenade belt on Shepard accompanied by her Vindicator — and beats it.

“Evidently, every pervert on Ilium wants to die,” she grumbles, dropping his hand and turning away. He’s almost sad to lose the heat of her hands.

“Death, we can do. Kisses? The true danger to the galaxy,” he teases. She giggles and begins walking again. “Never say Commander Shepard was afraid of a battle. Just a date.”

“Get it right, Vakarian,” she laughs. “Jacob coined my new name. I’m not just Commander Shepard. I’m Commander Goddamn Shepard!”

“Do you want us to call you that in the field, too? It’s a bit of a mouthful.” Trying to imagine Kasumi yelling it, or better, Miranda, fills him with glee.

Snickering draws his attention back to Nora. “Nah, just the rest of the time.” Abruptly, she veers away from the main thoroughfare. “Here! This has a great thermal scope on sale. But more importantly, they have limited edition grenades!” She disappears around the side of the kiosk. He barely has to bother with another step. Holograms of the scopes hover in front of him for perusal. It is nice. A little expensive, but… he shrugs. He’ll have to check with Nora, anyway. All he has are the credits he filches after firefights.

Circling around, he finds her hovering over the gun display. An upgraded Tempest is on sale, but she’s lingering on the Locust. At the very top of the display, a magnificent Widow sits. It’s very distracting. Or at least it is until she shifts. Ilium’s afternoon sunlight lances through the shadows and dances on her hair. The dark chestnut gleams and ripples, unbound from its braid. (His sister’s voice chides him, _Garrus Vakarian! Have you lost your mind?_ He ignores her in favor of sneaking up on Shepard.)

“If you ever wanted to make sure you’re my favorite commanding officer, I can tell you how,” he rumbles, right behind her. Her head cranes toward him, smirk firmly in place.

“I’m not already? Oh! The horror!” she mocks. “Let me guess. The Widow up top?”

He moves beside her, ready to explain why. But lightning-fast, the file flickers through his mind. _Unintentional touch deprivation is often a side effect. Touch has many positive effects on those suffering from severe depression._ He hesitates for a minute.

 _Spirits damn it all, what do I have to lose?_ One arm drapes over her shoulders. He leans in and whispers, trying to make the entire thing look intentional, “It’s not just a Widow. It’s a thing of beauty.”

When his arm falls into place, he notices her tensing. Seconds later, her muscles lose tension. It’s very, very, very slight. If he wasn’t paying attention, he wouldn’t have noticed — but she leans into his arm. Just a bit. “Is that so? Sure looks like a gun to me, Mr. Sniper, sir.”

  
\- - -

  
Miranda hums as she passes back through the main market of Ilium. A stop at a store, to pick up something for Oriana, and — wait.

All her thoughts screech to a halt. Shepard has an escort, as she wanted. It’s Vakarian. The tall turian stands next to Nora at a food kiosk, apparently arguing with her. It doesn’t do any good. Nora turns around, hands full of food, a minute later. She sticks her tongue out at Garrus — something Miranda can see even at this great distance. All the reply Nora gets is a shaking head.

Connections click into place uncomfortably fast when Miranda sees Garrus hesitate… and take Nora’s elbow. It’s only for a minute, to guide her to a seat. But it’s unnecessary. No soldier does unnecessary touch.

“Well,” she says to the air. “That’s… certainly something.”

  
\- - -

  
Jack’s practicing her punches again. And then Ashley interrupts… again. This time, it’s less startling. Since the elevator dings, it works like a doorbell. Jack spins and faces the elevator, despite knowing everyone on board is friendly. The other woman emerges…

“What the hell? Did you grow skin back? Does cybernetic stuff work that way now?” Jack wonders, dropping her arms.

Ashley laughs. “No. It’s a bit of a long story, involving the commander, scaring children, and my family.” In her arms, there’s a half dozen boxes Jack recognizes as coming from various stores on Ilium. “Don’t stop on my account,” Ashley adds, boxes cluttering onto a workbench. “Or are you scared of criticism?”

“In your dreams, Williams,” Jack scoffs. But she takes back up punching, spinning, kicking —

Aaand the elevator again. It opens to admit the justicar. Tall, blue, and definitely way more _gifted_ than Jack herself, she’s an unknown quantity. “Good day. Miss Williams. I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Miss…?” the asari trails off.

“Jack. Just Jack,” she grumbles.

“A pleasure to meet you, Jack. I am Samara. May I watch you train?”

Jack just blinks for a minute. “Uh, yeah. Probably pretty boring, though. Way better with the biotics.”

Samara nods as she pulls herself into a cross-legged sit on the floor. “I thought such to be likely. You wield biotic power beyond that of most human dreams.”

“Yeah.” Jack scoffs and swipes at her nose, wiping the sweat away. “Thanks to Cerberus. Assholes.” Samara tilts her head slightly. Jack ignores it and slides into the stance Ashley showed her last time. It does help. A little.

“May I ask what Cerberus had to do with your biotic power?” She expects the question, honestly. She still bombs out on her next punch.

“Shitheads experimented on me when I was a kid. In pursuit of human greatness, right?” This punch goes better.

Ashley calls out, “Keep your other arm guarding when you swing. Don’t leave yourself open.”

“I see.” Samara sits, and watches. She offers nothing else, beyond a few pointers on form. Ashley ends up sparring — very gently — with Jack. It’s only a slightly bloody nose.

  
\- - -

  
Joker’s in the mess hall enjoying supper when the call comes through. “Is it still your shift?” Nora asks, frowning. Even through the omni-tool’s awful camera, he can tell it’s a work frown.

“Nope. Just came off it. Cailin’s taking over. Why? Orders come in?” he asks, popping a fry in his mouth.

“Ish. Apparently Tali’s just been issued top-secret orders to go to Haestrom in the Far Rim for data. She’s taking a squad of quarian marines.” She pauses, leans over to Garrus, and says something the omnitool mic doesn’t catch. “Asshole in charge thinks if we help with the mission, they might let Tali go with us.”

“Seriously?” He sits up straighter. “Hell yeah. Tali’s about the only one I trust with the Normandy.” As an aside, he mutters, “Sorry, D and D. You can’t beat quarians.”

“Seriously. Have EDI send out a priority message. I want anyone who’s still on shore leave back on the ship in the next four hours. Have Cailin prep and start the pre-flight. Then you, sir, go get some bunk.” Her eyes narrow. Not a look he’s arguing with.

“On it, Commander!”

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed’s asleep when the call to return to the Normandy comes over comms. He smacks his omnitool and goes back to sleep.

Five hours later, they’re in flight. He’s half-dressed, oiling his guns, when the commander comes in. “Zaeed. We’re going to the Far Rim to meet up with a team of quarian marines. Initial reports lead me to think there may be entire platoons of geth at our destination. That in mind, I’m taking…” She shrugs. “Probably just about everyone, honestly.”

“Hell yeah. Gotta love a good shitstorm.” He snaps his assault rifle back together before looking up at her. “All due respect, Commander, but your ship’s kind of a fuckin’ mess.”

She snorts with laughter. “Yeah. It is. As long as people do what they’re supposed to, though, I really don’t care.” She pauses. “Well, that, and as long as the amount of gigantic fights over trivial things stays low.”

“And you were Alliance?” He has to muffle his own laughter. “Fuckin’ Stevie probably hated you.”

Nora’s clearly not got a clue what he’s on about. “…Stevie?”

“Yeah. Admiral. Never takes off his goddamn hat.” Pleasure, really, the way her jaw drops.

“You — _Admiral Hackett? **Admiral Steven Hackett**_ **?** ” When she sits down hard on the floor, the thump echoes. He can’t help a laugh.

“Stevie boy, yeh. We’ve had a run-in or two. Pretty decent chap, to be Alliance,” he tells her.

“Does everyone know everyone in this damn galaxy?” she demands, glowering at him as he cleans his pistol. “Seriously. This person knows that one and that one knows this one and — ugh! At this rate, I’m going to find out I’m related to the asari councilor!”

 _Snapsnapsnap_. Pistol’s back together. “Get me some wiggle room if you are, would y’? Pretty sure asari worlds have it out for me.”

“Pffft. Anyway. New grenades in the shuttle bay. When we get to Haestrom, you’ll know.” With that, she stands, spins, and leaves. He chuckles.

 

\- - -

  
Miranda storms into the med bay as soon as she’s no longer distracted by urgent messages and Oriana. “Doctor. As soon as possible, we need to dock at a medical center and retrieve anti-depressants. The Normandy wasn’t stocked with them, I believe. The commander —”

Karin cuts her off. “Is depressed? I’ve noticed. She’s already being dosed, Miss Lawson.” Clucking and shaking her head, her disapproval is clear. “It is a good thing you have a science degree and not a medical one. Being a doctor requires attention. Any idiot could have seen it.”

 _How does she constantly blind-side me?_ Miranda wonders. “I… I see. Thank you, Doctor.”

Back in her office, she opens her message terminal and stares at it blankly.

  
\- - -

 

Sigurd’s. Pylos. They’ve just slingshotted through the Hawking Eta relay when her private terminal begins chiming furiously. “Commander!” Miss Chambers exclaims. “The Illusive Man wishes to speak to you over the QEC _immediately_!”

Nora spins from her place, presiding over the galaxy map, and nods to Kelly before sprinting towards the meeting room. “Sir?”

Ten minutes later, she stalks from the room, jaw tight. More than one crewmember ducks out of her way on her walk to the cockpit. “Joker. Change course. EDI should have coordinates already.”

He cranes his neck to look at her again. “You sure?”

“No. Do it anyway.” Returning to the galaxy map, she opens a ship-wide comm link. “Attention, all members of the ground party for Haestrom. Our destination has changed. We’re now bound for a Collector ship. Nothing changes.”

“Commander —” Kelly starts, hesitant. One hand whips up, silencing her as Nora continues.

“This ship is supposedly dead. I have no faith in the ability of any scanner to report the Collectors accurately. Arm yourselves heavily. If we come back without firing a shot, so be it. Shepard out.” She shuts the comm link and whirls on Chambers. “Yeoman. If I desire tactical input, I will not be asking you for it. You are trained in psychology, not warfare. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Commander. I — I wouldn’t have said anything, except… the Illusive Man wants you to take smaller ground teams, you see. He may not have said anything yet. But he believes it may help us escape the notice of the Collectors and other malefactors,” Kelly explains, voice quiet.

“Then he can tell me himself. Thank you for trying to relay that, but don’t do it when I’m in the middle of a call.” She leaves the CIC, going up to her quarters first. She needs to pick out a helmet that won’t suffocate her for this.

 

 


	7. Unwelcome Auguries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora finds herself weak. Too weak. 
> 
> Also, a lot of people flip off a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing particularly triggery here. There's a seizure part-way through. 
> 
> May expand on this later, as I don't feel like this chapter is long enough.

Jack’s not the last one into the shuttle bay. But it’s close. The elevator opens, and she emerges into a relatively packed bay. Zaeed, Samara, Grunt, Ashley, and Jacob all stand about. Most are playing with their guns. Samara sits calmly on the edge of the Hammerhead, meditating. She shrugs and moves to sit beside Samara. She might be weird, but hey, weird silence is better than loud assholes.

Five minutes later, the elevator admits Shepard. Something about her doesn’t quite seem right, but Jack shakes it off. The commander’s in the familiar red and black, helmet under her arm. “Alright. I don’t have any brief for you. We are going in _completely_ blind — wait.” She pauses and scans them.

Just then, the elevator opens, sheepish turian exiting. “Sorry, Commander. Miss Chambers cornered me.” Jack’s never seen a turian slink like that before.

“As I was saying before Mr. Vakarian was determined to be late… We are going in blind as bats. We have no maps, no enemy count, no expectations of what could happen. We might go in and get overwhelmed. And on the other hand, we might not fire a single shot. I’m not going to take chances on this, though. Don’t get separated from your team.”

“Who’s leadin’?” Zaeed rumbles. “Don’t expect we’re all doin’ this together like it’s preschool.”

“Team Mako will consist of Garrus, Ashley, Jack, and I. Team Hammerhead will be led by you, Zaeed. You get Samara, Grunt, and Jacob.” Shepard shifts her weight. Jack has to hide the tiny exultant thought at being chosen for Shepard’s team. “We move out as soon as we reach the ship. _Don’t take chances_. This might be the ship that kidnapped Horizon. It might not. Keep an eye out for any colonists. Understood?”

Jacob and Ashley salute before answering, “Yes, ma’am!” The others just nod (like normal, non-Alliance humans and aliens).

“You’ve all been issued explosives. While we’re exploring, plant them behind us. We’re not taking chances with leaving this thing floating in space, if it’s actually deserted and/or dead.” Nora wiggles a small rectangle at them. “If you don’t know how to work explosives, I don’t know how you got this far. Talk to me or Zaeed about them.”

Jack’s first thought when she sees the Collector ship as they load up into the shuttle is, _Jesus, that’s creepy as hell._

Behind her, Samara echoes the thought out loud, though more eloquently. “This vessel… does not bode well. Nothing inanimate has ever given me such dread.”

Shepard looks down from where she’s watching them board and snorts. “You guys weren’t at Horizon. No, they don’t bode well.” Jack’s inside the shuttle now, so it’s muffled — but she’s fairly certain she can hear Shepard mumbling curses. Halfway to the ship, Shepard calls out, “If you have to split up, make sure it’s a biotic and non-biotic team. I split you like this specifically. Biotics may be an effective temporary countermeasure to the swarms.”

“Understood, commander!” Zaeed barks and turns on Grunt and Jacob immediately. “Hear that, ya little shits? No runnin’ off to play hero!” Then, lightning fast, his growl turns into a purr as he speaks to Samara. “Course, ma’am, you’re welcome to do whatever y’ please.”

Jack muffles a laugh in her elbow. “Shit, Shep, and I was looking forward to seeing you charge into a clump of these motherfuckers.”

Nora’s grin comes and leaves like lightning. “Who says you won’t? If we split up, go with Ash. You’re longer ranged than I am, and Garrus is longer ranged than Ash.”

“You, short range?” Ashley snorts. “You’ve always been what-the-hell-ever strikes your fancy.”

“Think left and think right, and think low and think high. Oh, the things you think up if only you try!” Nora quips. Jack has absolutely no idea why it sends Ash into a gale of laughter.

“Antique children’s books? Really, Skipper?” she gasps out. Nora just waggles her eyebrows and slides her helmet on.

“Prep to move out,” her voice comes over their comms. Helmets go on. Jack wishes she could have stuck with her lightweight breathing apparatus, but this is serious shit. Nora demanded the heavy stuff.

Inside the ship, she expects it to reek. She expects it to feel eerie. She expects a horror movie set. While she can’t smell anything through her helmet and its air system, everything else suits perfectly. Garrus mumbles, “Love what they’ve done with the place.”

“Horror movie chic. Just what I want for my flat,” Jack mutters, moving down the corridor. Massani and Williams take point, shotguns held tight to their bodies.

“Horror movie?” Jacob snorts. “Looks more like a hive for a bunch of huge-ass bugs.”

“Shit, man. Don’t say that! I hate bugs.” Jack shivers. She lived on Pragia. She’s been on other garden worlds. Even now, she can feel them creeping over bare skin at the very thought of it.

Shepard clears her throat. The comm banter calms down in time for EDI’s calm voice to come through. “Penetrating scans…” something something something. Every omnitool in the group pings with a navpoint. “Shepard. This is the vessel you encountered on Horizon.” That, Jack hears. Everyone but Samara bristles. They saw the aftermath of Horizon.

“Maybe those defense towers…” Jack can practically hear the commander’s wheels turning. “Possibility.”

“Looks like you were right,” Zaeed rumbles. “Those colonists might still be aboard.”

Just ahead, the road takes a sharp turn. Grunt pushes closer to the front, leering over Shepard’s shoulder. “That pod is like my pod… but smaller.”

Nobody says it. But everyone thinks it, she’s pretty sure. _It’d be awful to be trapped in those, at the mercy of these bastards._ They follow the road to the right after dropping —

“Fucking hell!” Jack spits, too shocked and disgusted to think anything else. Similar expressions of horror come from the rest of the group.

She’s most distracted by Shepard’s, “Fuck these insect looking motherfuckers with a rusty shovel and send them to _**hell.”**_

Grunt steps forward, the only one not clearly repulsed by the pile of bodies. Well, Samara’s… still neutral, but she’s Samara. It seems to be her constant state. Before he can speak, or do anything, Garrus mutters, “Well, this is bad.”

“No shit, Sherlock?” she and Shepard both growl simultaneously.

“Not very sporting,” Grunt grumbles, kicking an arm back into the pile. “What’s the point in leaving piles of dead prey around? Prey you didn’t even work hard for?”

“Only place I know with that high of a body count is cloning facilities and Cerberus labs. So, gonna guess these fucks were experimenting,” Ashley adds with a snort. “Shame we didn’t bring Miranda. She’d probably get a kick out of this.”

“Williams!” Nora barks. “Behave.” Glancing over, Jack can see the eyeroll behind Ash’s helmet.

“Whatever tests they were running, looks like these guys didn’t pass,” Jacob murmurs. Nora nods. She’s the first of them to step forward. Jack didn’t know what she expected. It wasn’t for Nora to kneel beside the pile of bodies. She touches an arm — the only thing still recognizable outside of uniforms — and murmurs something. Her voice stays too quiet for the comms to pick up. But the way her head inclines, it’s clearly some kind of benediction.

Nobody says anything. It’s too odd. It’s the strangest thing Jack could have imagined happening. None of the others expected it, clearly. The commander wraps the fingers of the single arm around a large explosive charge and murmurs something else. When Nora stands, she nods to them and the group moves on. When the pile is out of sight, Jack grouses, “There are worse things than death, anyway. Like being an experiment for some sick fuck.”

“You mean like oh, say, that?” Zaeed sighs, motioning ahead. Garrus decodes the terminal while the others poke around.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt hates this mission. So far, it’s been nothing but dead bodies and empty hallways. Interesting dead bodies, sure. But they’re already dead. No fun.

“Let’s hurry and get what we need,” Shepard barks. All of the others seem a little shocked by the revelation the Collectors used to be Protheans. Honestly, from what Grunt knows of the Reapers, it’s a little bit expected.

“More pods…” Ashley breathes as they enter the next open space. Shepard eyes them.

“How many do you think are full?” Jacob wonders, the words almost absent.

“Too many.” The commander exhales. “Team Hammerhead. I want you to continue on the main path. Team Mako will be investigating some of these pods.”

“Commander. It is likely whoever was in the pods died when the ship lost power,” the AI hums over their comms.

Shepard’s snarl makes him proud. “Then we pull their dead bodies out and haul them back. If it means we can give one person closure, it’s worth the effort.”

“Of course, Shepard.” EDI pauses and adds, “There seem to be no life signs of any kind in either of the pod tunnels. Proceed as you will.”

Grunt watches them leave. Shepard and the tattooed biotic use their power to spring up on the edge of the ledge. Garrus just takes a running jump and hauls himself into the tunnel while the others float Ashley up.

He marches on, leaving Team Mako behind for his assigned duty.

  
\- - -

  
Hundreds upon hundreds of pods surround them in the tunnel. Yellow light, eerie and somehow stale, floats past them as they creep farther in. Everything about the place sends chills under Garrus’s plates. Pod after pod after pod — no bodies in any of them. It feels as if they walk for hours without anything happening. Pod, stop, place explosives, move on. Pod, stop, place explosives, move on.

“Fuck me, this is creepy,” Jack grumbles. “Now I definitely know the Collectors are twisted fucks.”

“It was ever in doubt?” Nora asks, clearing the fog from another pod. Still nothing.

More silence. A minute later, Nora begins humming. It’s loud, louder than usual. Clearly she’s trying to dispel the atmosphere. Ashley joins in. To his surprise, the two harmonize well together, even over the comms that love leeching sound from voices. Ahead, there’s a change in the topography. Nobody says anything, but their strides all lengthen. This sameness, pods and pods and pods… anything different is a welcome change.

“Well, shit,” Ashley announces when they come to it. The tunnel diverges. One right, one left, the right one smaller than the other, both lined with — surprise — more pods. “Split up, Skipper?”

“Yeah. I’ll hail you periodically. You’re Team FSU, Garrus and I are Team WDS.” Nora rattles off the abbreviations with an air that says, ‘this is how it will be, don’t question it’.

Of course, Ashley questions it. “Acronyms? What do those even stand for?” she asks incredulously.

“You’re Team Fuck Shit Up. Garrus and I are Team Well Damn Son.” Somehow, Shepard’s voice remains perfectly level. Nobody else manages it. They all burst into laughter. Everything seems just a little less eerie as they turn from each other, still chuckling, and head for their tunnels.

Picking their way among the pods, his Mantis held loose and ready to be ready, he has to ask, “Why’d you choose me for your team? Why not send me with Ashley?”

Through the dark glass of her helmet, he sees the way her eyes narrow on him. “…did you miss the part about the range? You’re long, I’m not.”

“Yes, but Ashley can be long-range, too.” Another pod, fogged over — empty. They plant explosives and move on, looking for more foggy pods.

“You’re on my six. Literally always. It’s comforting. Ash dances around like I do, and that’s okay. But being dependable is good.” Nora shoves a pod out of their path. A pause, and then she shatters it with a punch. “It’s like clockwork. Midnight comes, stars die. I can always feel you on my six.”

Something about her phrasing is odd. “…feel?” he prods. “I didn’t think I stood that close.”

She snorts at him. “No, ass. My biotics.”

His mandibles draw in tight, and he ponders for a minute. “I don’t think that’s how biotics work. Or at least, so I’ve heard.”   
  
Bodysuit flashing with a pulse of energy, she answers, “I’m pretty sure it’s pretty normal. I can feel everyone in firefights to some degree. Thane likes my six, too, but he’ll go five or seven every other fight to mix it up. Kasumi’s usually anywhere from ten to two. Miranda favors my three and four, Jacob likes my seven through nine. But you’re always six.”

Before he can answer, machinery grinding echoes down the tunnel. “There!” he and Nora chorus. His Mantis whips up, as does her Vindicator. They creep forward, ready to fire…

Five minutes later, they haven’t found anything. Nora takes a step or two away, lowering her gun, and touches her comm. “FSU, status?”

He turns and scans behind them, just in case. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Ashley reports. “More of these pods. I think we **may** be converging on a central point. The scans EDI sent us —” her voice disappears in Nora’s shriek. Garrus spins, ready — and finds a wall. Nora is nowhere to be seen.

“Team WDS! _Team WDS! Damn it, Shepard, **answer me**!_ ” Ashley roars over the comms. “Garrus! Damn it, Vakarian, did you disappear too?”

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ Three shots are the limit on his Mantis, even as modded as it is. He reaches for his assault and answers Ashley. “No. Shepard’s — I don’t know. There’s a wall here, came out of nowhere.” _Rat-atattatataat_ — his assault rifle does nothing to the wall, either. “Damn it all! Shepard! SHEPARD!”

  
\- - -

 

When the tunnel floor turns to a slide beneath her feet, it’s the last thing she expects. But she slams into something and stops, far before she might have expected it. Darkness, nearly absolute and broken only by the glimmer of light from far-above pods, surrounds her. “Well, shit,” she mutters. She taps her comm. “Team FSU, Garrus, where are you?” Nothing comes back. “…Ash? Garrus? Jack?”

Only silence answers her. So she flicks the light on her gun on and looks around. Nothing particularly out of place, only a single shaft leading from the room, and the strange steps leading up to it. “And today, on horror movie bull, we have this specimen,” she mutters, moving forward. Nothing bumps her. Nothing shoots. Every second seems a minute, and every minute an hour. After the seventeenth time she glances at her omnitool for the time and finds it unchanged as she creeps down the tunnel, she sings to herself.

Light ahead. Four minutes have passed since she entered the tunnel. She swallows and keeps singing. “So fill to me the parting glass…” falls from her lips and dies as she enters the light. Ahead, a room waits. Even from here, she can see dozens of screens ringing the room.

“Shepard,” a voice greets her as her foot crosses the threshold. Four eyes, glowing and malicious, fill every screen.

“Asshole,” she returns it. “The fuck do you want?” In the middle of the room, there’s a gigantic console. She eyes it. Something about it… yes, she’s fairly certain it could get her out.

“I am Harbinger.” It leers down at her. “We have come to offer a truce.”

That shocks her right out of her slow creep towards the console. “What?”

“We have come to offer a truce,” it repeats. “We are limitless. You are bacteria. Your destiny lies with us. Join us. We will… preserve you.”

Every part of Shepard knows, _knows,_ she should turn it down. But she can’t help asking, “And my crew? The people who have served me faithfully?” Her step forward looks like she’s trying to confront him. It just gets her closer to the console.

“Some may survive. You have a turian, an asari, and a krogan. These may be kept. Others will perish. Leave them behind. The dead are useless,” the Collector drones.

For a second, just a second, she considers it. Then she catches sight of something on the console. It’s video feed from another part of the ship. It flickers through, settling for an instant on Ash and Jack. They’re running down a tunnel, full tilt, hands at their comms. Another flicker shows her Team Hammerhead, fighting off Collectors on some platform. Last, it shows her Garrus. In between bursts of gunfire, he hammers at a wall. Something about his demeanor tells her it’s where she fell from. “No. Fuck you, and fuck your ship, and fuck your Prothean DNA. We will _never_ give up. We will _never_ give in,” she snarls, giving up the pretense and crossing to the console. “Victory or death!”

Fingers hammering away at the controls, she feels black creeping in at the edges of her mind. It lingers. It watches her. And it lashes out —

with no result. “This is impossible,” Harbinger murmurs. There’s almost shock in his voice. Black and dark, the creeping returns, encroaching on her mind. Nothing happens.

Every screen cuts out. Harbinger’s eyes disappear. The floor grinds and moves beneath her feet, disengaging from a lock around the edges of the room. Almost too fast, it shoots upward. Hands more than a little numb, she fumbles on the handle of her Vindicator before pulling it up and readying. “Communications block… down,” she mutters, tapping. “What’s this?”

  
\- - -

  
Samara expects many things from this Collector base. None of them include the Commander’s voice suddenly coming in over her comms in a high-pitched battle cry. Nor did they include said Commander coming towards them on one of the Collector’s moving islands, crouched and ready for battle. It passes over them and she rolls off the side, landing in an ungraceful heap. Thankfully, it’s during a slight lull.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here, Commander?” Massani sputters. “Thought you were off with those other fucks.”

“I was,” she grunts, sitting up. “Then Harbinger — head honcho of these shitheads — decided he wanted a tête-à-tête.” Breath hisses from between her teeth as she stands, one hand pressed to her side. “I think that’s a rib. Doc’s going to have my head.” Before anyone has time to reply, she’s on comms. “Team Mako, do you hear me?”

When the turian’s voice comes in reply, it bleeds so much relief and joy Samara feels guilty for listening. “Shepard! Spirits, what happened? One minute you were there, and the next —”

“Can’t talk! Collectors incoming!” Indeed, another platform sails towards them. A dozen buzz towards them on wings, and more wait on the platform. Truly, it is the first time Samara has seen the Commander in battle. She does not wield raw power like young Jack, but her enthusiasm makes up for it. Shockwaves ripple toward enemies, and Samara takes great joy in swatting the disoriented creatures off the platforms like bugs.

“Heading towards your navpoint, Skipper!” Miss Williams calls over the comms. “Sounds like you could use the help!” Shepard does not reply. Her warp slings towards two Collectors, caught in Samara’s singularity, and sends pieces of them flying.

“You fight well, Commander. I am pleased with your prowess,” the justicar comments when the last body has fallen.

“Good to hear —” Shepard stumbles, one hand to her head. “Urgh, something’s… urgh.”

“Don’t go gettin’ all sissy over there, Shepard,” Massani barks at her. “Last goddamn thing I need is to haul your ass off this ship!”

“Insubordination, Massani!” she barks back. “Haul your own damn ass off this ship so I don’t have to!”

“If you are done, I need someone to manually re-establish my link to the center console,” the ship’s computer butts in. For a computer, it sounds very testy.

“Wait for — oh. Hey. Team Mako, incoming,” Shepard mumbles. The turian strides right up to the commander and grabs her by the shoulders. Samara hears his sub-harmonics hum, just barely, but Shepard cuts him off. “Reconnecting you, EDI.”

“I have regained control of this platform, Commander,” the hologram informs them, popping up on the console.

“I’m not sure how you lost it, but great work.” Through the dark glass of the helmet, Samara sees Nora’s slow smile. “If you were a human, I’d mess with your hair. Suffice it to say I’m proud.”

“I always run at optimal capacity,” EDI hums. Samara narrows her eyes.

 _Was that… hm. This computer has many emotions for a simple VI._ So the thought is stowed for later. “Did you find the information we sought?” she asks the blue bubble as the platform takes off.

“I have found information to help us successfully navigate the Omega 4 relay. I have also found the turian distress call which lured us here.” The computer pauses. “The Collectors are the true source. It is unusual.”

“Collectors, using shady tactics? Seems pretty normal to me,” Williams mutters. The hologram pivots toward her.

“It is unusual because turian emergency channels have secondary encryption. This is corrupted in the message.” Another pause. “It is impossible the Illusive Man believed the distress call was genuine.”

Jacob steps forward, confronting the bubble as the platform lands. “Why are you so sure?”

“I found the anomaly with Cerberus decryption protocols.” Another pause. Samara tells herself to check in the ship’s core later. “He wrote them.”

Over the Normandy’s link, the pilot swears stridently. “He knew it was a trap? Why would he send us into a trap?”

“Worry about the blame game later. Let’s get the hell off this ship for now,” the commander orders. Again, the turian’s voice hums, but Shepard cuts him off again. “Stow it. I want out of here.”

They set out, guns ready, as they creep through the halls once again. Just after they lay another set of charges, the pilot hails them again. “Commander! The Collector ship is powering up! You need to get out, now! I’m not losing another Normandy!”

“Move it!” Shepard orders, breaking into a run. “EDI, coordinates for extraction, stat! Ground team, I don’t want to see anyone at less than a dead sprint!”

Samara and Vakarian lead the sprint, along with Shepard. He has longer legs, but Samara’s long years of training stand her in good stead. Directions come over their comms. More than one person — the commander included — almost runs into a wall when they have to change direction. Just below that, a room greets them, along with the familiar buzz of Collector wings. Grunt, Massani, and Shepard all pause to hurl grenades, almost precisely at the same time. Seconds later, the commander’s in the thick of the battle, laying about with charged punches and wild shockwaves of energy.

“Hell yeah, Shepard!” Jack cackles. “Save me some!”

One Collector, injured already and at the far edge of the battle, begins to glow. Golden light ripples over it, pouring from new cracks in the skin. “Assuming direct control,” it booms.

Samara dislikes being surprised. Her immediate response is an over-charged warp field. It staggers, but does not fall. “Back for more, shithead?” Shepard calls, stalking across the field. Biotic energy ripples over her skin. Jack and Mr. Taylor combine their powers to yank another Collector out of her way.

“You merely delay the inevitable, Shepard,” it rumbles. The commander responds with a throw that barely staggers the thing, despite the nearly opaque gleam of power in it. “Reconsider and survive.”

“I already gave you my answer,” Shepard snarls. “Not changing it, either.” This time, her shockwave knocks it back a few steps. Samara catches the tinge of a green barrier falling from the Collector’s body. Indeed, Shepard is almost upon it, to end it —

“Shepard!” Williams shrieks, breaking from cover and darting to her commander as the woman wobbles and falls to her knees.

“I’m — **fuck!”** Pain laced through Shepard’s voice makes Samara’s decision. She, too, breaks from cover and darts towards Shepard. No biotic speaks of pain lightly. She struggles to her feet, still wobbling, as Samara runs.

When next the commander speaks, her voice carries an odd accent. Thankfully, Samara has an upgraded translator. “On knife!” Shepard lunges forward, biotics giving her body force, and slams into the Collector. It falls apart beneath the commander’s body. And suddenly, the chamber is silent. “MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!” Shepard roars, the pain still laced beneath the sound. Nobody disobeys.

  
\- - -

  
Jacob watches the commander, more than a little stunned. Whatever happened during her… tête-à-tête… has made her angry. It’s not like the anger he saw in the warehouse. This seems more controlled, more weapon-like.

More Collectors wait in the next room. He joins the chorus of swearing. Even Samara sighs. Jack beats Shepard into the thick of battle this time, but that doesn’t mean she stays back. Together, the two biotics topple Collectors like dominos. Over his comm, he can hear her humming an old Earth song.

And then another body, almost dead but not quite, glows with energy. Before Shepard even spies it, he’s already reaching out and yanking it to the ground with all the might he can muster. “We’ve got another glowy bastard!” Zaeed yells, saving the trouble.

“You could be great, Shepard,” the thing moans as bullets and biotics pepper it. “Pain is an illusion. You could feel none.”

When the body falls, the Commander flips it off. “Eloquent,” Vakarian drawls. She flips him off too. For a minute, all the sound anyone hears is sixteen feet, hitting the floor. Then they come to a ledge, and EDI comes over their comms again.

“I am opening a door on the far side of the room,” she tells them. He can see the open space from here… right behind the most mutated-ass looking thing he’s ever seen. And it’s _floating._

“Who the hell gave these guys hoverboards?” he grunts, sliding into cover. This time, Grunt bellows a war cry and charges straight for that thing. “We need to fire the props department!”

“Damn straight!” Shepard yells back. Samara nods to the commander, backs up, and runs at the edge of the staircase — leaping into nothing. Her biotics catch her and propel her forward, landing her squarely on top of Ugly As Hell. Blue shimmer surrounds her as she _rips_ the armor plating from it with _**her bare hands**_.

“Don’t get distracted by the sexy asari, Commander!” Ashley yells, breaking out the grenade launcher. _“SAMARA! MOVE IT!”_ The justicar needs no more warning. She springs away, a large piece of plating coming with her. As the green barrier on Ugly falls, the grenade lands, and Zaeed follows it up with a handful of something _really fiery._

 _I have got to get some of whatever that is,_ Jacob muses to himself. But Ugly isn’t down for the count. “Garrus! Distraction!” Shepard yells, following Samara’s lead and charging down the staircase at it. The justicar meets her there. Nora’s blue-purple and the asari’s paler color mix together into a gigantic shockwave, riding straight down the middle of the room. Husks fly like bowling balls. Ugly doesn’t move, too distracted by the grenades and sniper fire coming from above. When it hits, the thing slams into the wall and cracks.

“…well, I’m not eating scrambled eggs for a while,” Jack mumbles. They all come down the stairs together, feet pounding —

only to have the door close in their faces. “EDI! Problem!”

“Another door will open on the other side of the room momentarily. It is a temporary setback.” And then, EDI could have slapped Jacob for as much shock as he gets.

 _Over ten thousand firewalls? Damn!_ They pass through the door and down two more corridors without incident. Then the hum of wings. _This is going to make one hell of a report_ , he thinks as he finds cover.

“Getting really tired of this bullshit!” Jack yells. Nobody else disagrees, just sets into battle. As soon as the first shot lands, a Collector begins glowing. If his eyes are rolling, he’s dead sure Shepard’s are.

“Resistance is futile,” it drones. Jacob almost chokes. The sounds on his comm indicate he’s not the only one. “Why do you resist, Shepard?”

“Because fuck you,” the commander replies. Her anger’s quieter, but still there. “I’m human, not — **_augh!”_** Her knees buckle again. This time, she’s in the middle of the field. Unprotected. Keening, high-pitched, filled with so much pain it hurts, comes over the comm as she leans forward, hands on the floor.

“Battlemaster!” Grunt roars, tearing across the field. Too many shots slam into Shepard before he does, punting her into a corner behind some broken technology. “Collectors talking? No more!” His bellow precedes him charging, _literally_ headfirst, into the Harbinger.

When the last enemy falls, both Ashley and Garrus are at Shepard’s side almost immediately, both babbling. She stands, hand on the technology, and growls, “Get moving.” They pause, look at each other, and then at her. _“That’s an order!”_

Another hallway. A different variety of mutated motherfucker. Shepard’s staying at the back now, her sniper rifle resting on her arm. Next to Garrus, she’s sloppy. But a sloppy headshot’s still a headshot. The next hallway bring hordes of husks. “What is this, Night of the Living Dead?” he mumbles, reloading and touching his amp. It’s warm, but not overheating yet.

“Commander?” Samara asks, offering her hand to Nora. Shepard takes it and they proceed to the front of the group. Again, their biotics mingle into a massive shockwave.

“Uh, guys? Hate to rush you, but uh, guns. Coming online. Hurry!” Joker urges. Jack clears the remaining few with a throw, and they’re on the move again. Around the corner, the shuttle waits. “Out of time! We _have_ to go!”

“You heard the man! Onto the Normandy! **MOVE!”** Shepard barks. Despite barely being able to stay on her feet, she whirls and stays at the rear. Grunt stays with her, head bashing the husks that get too close, as she slams them into walls, floors, and each other. She’s the last one on the shuttle as it takes off.

Cailin’s voice comes over the shuttle comm. “Rocky road! Buckle up!” Immediately her words prove themselves true as the shuttle lists to one side and rolls, mid-air. “Sorry! They’re out here, firing on us! Apparently air isn’t necessary for them!”

Shuttle docks. Joker — “Strap in! We’re going to make them work for it.” Finally, _finally,_ the Normandy shudders with the beginnings of FTL.

“Bless you, Joker,” Nora mumbles, pulling off her helmet as she stands, head bowed. Either she should have stayed sitting, or she should have left her helmet on. Before anyone can react, her eyes roll back in her head and she faints.

Thunk! Her head bounces off the floor and tilts to the side, toward Jacob. Nausea fills his stomach when he sees the twin lines of blood coming not just from her nose, but her ears. “What the hell?” he mumbles. He’s not the only one.

  
\- - -

 

Perching in the mess hall and watching Joker’s feeds proves far less troublesome than staying in the CIC. It’s become a habit for Kasumi.

Seeing the commander rushed to the med bay, dripping blood, has not. From her vantage spot, she can see through the windows. Mordin appears from the elevator so quickly it’s unreal, and Miranda sprints across the mess hall. Curiosity, and not a little bit of worry, has Kasumi hacking the med bay’s security feed.

“…restraints! Quickly! She might — _damn it, Lawson!_ ” the doctor swears, spinning from her table. Both on the feed and through the windows, Kasumi can see Nora’s body convulsing. It starts out like she ate something bad, torso rolling, legs and hips twisting. Then, over the feed and through the windows both, she sees Nora’s arms go wild. One slams into the wall. The other slaps against Shepard’s body, violently enough Kasumi wonders about bruises. Her head flops backward, body arching into what’s far too close to a full circle. If she listens, beneath the voices, she can hear bones creaking in Nora’s body.

“On it!” Miranda replies, throwing her hand out. Biotic blue creeps over the commander’s body, holding her down. Only her head still thrashes against the medical table, and Mordin holds it down, hands gentle but firm.

“Not unusual reaction to cranial trauma. Scan, Doctor?” he asks Chakwas. Miranda’s field now encompasses Nora’s head. Hands free, Mordin takes to gently prodding every bit of head he can get his hands on. “Hm. No physical markers of trauma. Unusual.”

More convulsions, wild enough to startle Miranda —

Kasumi’s seen enough.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus paces. Ashley paces beside him. Only the sweat and blood in their armor kept them from barging into the med bay as soon as Nora was in. Armor stowed, though not well-cleaned, and weapons away, they wait. The privacy shutters bar their view, stopping even the slightest hope from creeping through.

Ten minutes, Jack and Samara join them. Jacob sidles in, looking hungry and worried both. Forty-five minutes after Nora was hauled in, the cleaning crew comes and cleans her blood from the floor. Garrus watches it, numb. _What happened to her down there?_

Seven minutes after that, Chakwas emerges. Immediately, the entire room bounces to their feet. “What —”

“Is she —”

“Do you know —”

 **“Enough!”** the doctor booms, her voice surprisingly loud for someone so small. “The commander is fine. She may have some motor issues for a few days, along with a few other side effects. But it’s exactly as if someone had bludgeoned her, except without an external wound.” Age flickers into the crevices of the doctor’s face for a moment before she continues. “Do you know what happened?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Doc. Jack and I split off from Garrus and Shepard. Next thing I know, Shepard’s screaming, and we can’t reach her over comms. We couldn’t find her anywhere. Then she showed up with Zaeed’s squad.” Ashley shrugs, face helpless.

“She… during battle, more than once, she collapsed,” Garrus muses out loud.

“If I may be bold, whatever caused this should be a priority. No biotic buckles under pain easily. Less so, a seasoned soldier.” Samara’s lips press together, thin and tight, and she adds, “It is unnerving to see anyone so strong in pain.”

“Do you — sorry, Jacob —” Kasumi’s voice comes from nowhere. “Do you think it was part of her Cerberus implants?”

Honestly, the thought hadn’t occurred to Garrus yet. Now that it does, he can’t help growling.

  
\- - -

  
When Nora wakes up, her head _hurts like hell._

“Commander!” comes an all-too-familiar voice.

“I didn’t do it,” she mumbles — or, well, she tries. What comes out is, “I nidn’ doit.” Shocked, her eyes fly open to the sight of Karin being over her, frowning.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Karin murmurs. “Blink for me.” Light in one eye, light in the other, light in the ear. “It appears your brain is healing well from its trauma, no doubt helped by the Cerberus implants. Your facial muscles may be unresponsive for a time. You may also be unusually clumsy. However, I didn’t expect you to wake for at least another full day, so it may not last as long as I think it will.”

“W’appened?” Nora slurs, doing her best to pull herself to her elbows.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Shepard. You came in bleeding from the ears and nose, and begin seizing shortly after.” Karin turns away to pick up a datapad. “Such indicates some sort of cranial trauma. However, there was no head wound to indicate any such thing. Congratulations, you have stumped my science. Unless it was something to with an implant or your biotics, I have nothing."

“H’rbin’r…” She moves her hand towards her head. It responds too slowly for her taste. Her fingers twitch spasmodically as she moves. This is important for her to say, to communicate, so she focuses very hard on her words. It almost sounds normal. “Cut me ‘way fr’m Grus. Talkeddd t’ me. P’ssed off, and… ink in my brrrain.” One finger uncurls, unwieldy, and she pokes herself in the head.

Chakwas listens, body eerily still. “If I understand you correctly, you were separated from Garrus.” She nods. “This… Harbiner? Harbinger? Talked to you. You made it angry, and you then began hallucinating… dark shadows?”

Nora shakes her head as emphatically as she can. It’s too much. Pain lances through her temples. “Nnn,” she offers Chakwas, hand flying to her head. “Sssquid. Ink. Nnnnnot shadow.”

Karin twitches her nose. “I…” She exhales. “I’m sending you a link to a program for your omnitool. Until you can speak more coherently, it’ll help you be understandable.”

Two minutes later, Nora’s tool dings. It’s a quick download, and soon her fingers fly over the keys. Karin watches her type. The longer she types, the wider Karin’s eyes grow. When she finishes, it’s a proper wall of words. “We were checking pods for survivors or bodies. Ashley and Jack split off from Garrus and I. I got dumped into a hole without Garrus. Harbinger has a creepy me fetish, and can control Collectors. He talked to me down there. Offered me immortality. I told him to shove it up his cloaca, or whatever that insect looking motherfucker has. Then he used some kind of funky brain attack. Honestly, it felt like a really bad migraine combined with a really bad trip. He kept trying it after I broke out of his… whatever. I guess that was maybe it?”

Hearing the odd vernacular, read off by a sweet asari voice, clearly makes it very hard for Chakwas to keep a straight face. Nora snickers, watching the facial expressions, and grins. (Half of her face doesn’t respond like it should but she’s not going to think about that yet.)

“I was unaware you had done drugs,” Karin finally chokes out.

The sweet voice replies, “I haven’t. I’m not completely oblivious, though.”

“I… I see. Thank you. Yes, I’m not sure what Harbinger might have done. You may leave the med bay, but I’m asking EDI to keep you under monitoring until your body regenerates to its… usual self.” Something, oddly apologetic, touches the doctor’s face for a second. “But, ah, you will either need an assistant or…” She falters and gestures to the corner. “The other option is Jeff’s leg braces for when he cracks something.”

 _…seriously?_ Nora thinks, and does her best to express that with a look.

“I’m afraid it’s unavoidable,” Karin tells her. “Which will it be?”

“Call Ashley to help me up to my room, and I’ll take the braces,” she taps into the program. Not even five minutes later, Ashley literally slides into the room. Sweatspots on her clothes and the messy bun make her previous occupation clear.

“Jesus, Nora, scare the ever loving shit out of me again, why don’t you?” she scolds. Nora wrinkles her nose and reaches for her omnitool.

“Shhhh. I’m your commanding officer,” the voice murmurs for her. Ashley throws her head back and laughs.

“You _were_ my commanding officer. Now we’re both freelance, so if we’re not on the field, I can do whatever!” She pauses. “Well, mostly. Besides, you love me.” She grins. “Seriously though, commander. I’m glad you’re okay. What’s up with the…” she taps her own omnitool.

Nora clears her throat before she attempts speaking. “H’ving trrrouble talking.”

Bemusement and shock dance across Ashley’s face. “I. Uh. Well, fuck, didn’t expect that.”

Into the program, “Help me to my room, please? Doctor, can you bring me the braces?” Both nod and move across the room. “Ashley, you smell.”

  
\- - -

  
Turning the ship over to Cailin has never brought so much relief. Joker truly loves the Normandy, in both its incarnations. But three hours ago, Ashley came through, gleefully announcing that Nora was back on her feet. She stole his braces, yeah, but that’s forgivable. He hates the damn things anyway.

One last look at Haestrom below, from where they hover in its shadow, and he turns to hobble away. As always, the elevator takes too long. This time, though, he doesn’t go down to crew quarters. “Captain’s cabin, please, EDI,” he requests.

“Mr. Moreau, I am unsure Shepard is in the mood for visitors. I will inquire.” Ten seconds of sitting in the elevator, and EDI finally says, “She is coming down to the mess hall. She wishes you to meet her outside her cabin.”

“Then take me there, Thing,” he grumbles. “Never needed permission from the old Normandy’s elevators.”

“The old Normandy’s elevators also never stole data from a Collector base, Mr. Moreau,” EDI reminds him, voice frustratingly even. “Four seconds till arrival.”

When the doors woosh open, the captain’s doors are still closed. So he leans against the wall opposite and hums. He’s well aware of the reputation he had on both Normandies for watching ‘salacious videos’ during his time in the cockpit. Honestly, it really is more music than anything. And more bad romance novels than he likes to admit to.

Distracted by trying to remember a tricky transition, he doesn’t notice the door across from him sliding open. “I see my escort has arrived,” an utterly strange voice greets him. He jumps a solid… well, he’ll tell everyone it was a meter… in the air.

“Nora! What the — are you trying to scare me badly enough to break something?” he scolds her. She grins. When only half her face hitches up into the familiar smile, and the other only half-responds, his inhale almost _does_ break something. “Shit. Ash didn’t say it was that bad.”

“I should be functional soon,” the voice tells him. It’s coming — _oh yeah. Forgot how common those were_. “Did you miss me that badly?”

He closes his eyes. “I… don’t joke about this, Nora. It hasn’t been a week since you came in and had to get hauled to the med bay. And now you’re down in Collector ships, screaming, disappearing off comms, and coming in with brain problems?” She smirks, a bit, but he rolls his eyes and goes on before she can type anything. “Yeah, I know. Normal ones, yada yada. Seriously. What pilot wouldn’t be worried about his commander?”

“Cailin’s in remarkable sanguine shape,” she says. If it was her voice and not an asari, he knows exactly how deadpan it would be.

Two steps close the distance between them. Even when she’s not injured, she’s one of the few people on the ship he’s taller than. It makes her easy to hug when she’s not in armor. First, he notices her body’s too cool. It’s probably only thirty-eight degrees instead of a biotic’s comfortable thirty-nine or forty. Second, he can feel the lax muscles on the left side of her body. “I was muttering about not losing another Normandy,” he sighs into her hair. “I think it goes without saying that losing my favorite commander a second time would _fucking blow._ ”

Her arms slide around him slowly, and they don’t hug tight enough. “’preciate it, J’ff,” she mumbles into his shoulder. _Her_ voice, not the asari. “Don’ die s’ easy thoughhh.”

He pulls away and offers her his arm. “I know you don’t. But…” he hesitates. _This isn’t the time or the place to tell her I’m the reason she died. Definitely not._ “Seriously. Don’t.”

Leaning on his arm, very, very lightly, they hobble to the elevator together. “Gonna… shock ev’ryone. Crippples are usss,” she mumbles. Laughter bursts from him.

“Hell yeah. The SR-2’s dream team. Commander Crippled and Flight Lieutenant Fragile.” Her laughter shakes her body. In the elevator, she pulls away and leans on the wall, staring ahead distantly. “Also, I flew to Haestrom while you were… y’know, down in medical having seizures.”

Her eyes brighten and she turns toward him, body flopping against the wall. “Bless you, sir,” the asari — _fucker_ — tells him. “I’ll try not to crack your hips again in thanks.” The elevator dings, letting them out on crew deck while he’s cackling.

Sliding one arm around her waist, and she around his, they hobble into the hallway to the mess hall. “I maintain that may have been the hardest injury I’ve ever had to explain to a ship doctor. I mean, honestly. Normal sex fractures? Sure, whatever.” He shrugs and rolls his eyes. “It’s happened way too often. But when you’re trying to explain that your XO cracked your hips because you didn’t know she was your XO?”

Coming around the corner to the mess hall, they meet a room full of wide eyes. “Uh. S’it,” Nora spits under her breath. “You heard nothing! Carry on!” she keys, the asari calling it out for her.

“Nothing? Damn, Shepard, didn’t realize you’d cracked more than one of his bones,” Jack drawls from her place barely a meter away. “I heard about you hauling him here and there and breaking his shit, but that’s a bone I can get behind cracking.”

“H’te y’all,” Shepard mumbles, flopping into the nearest chair. Jacob’s curled into a ball in his chair, laughing so hard he’s wheezing, and Zaeed isn’t far off.

“Good goddamn, I fuckin’ love this ship,” Zaeed sighs.

“Ah, yes. I remember those fractures,” Karin calls from across the room. “You’re not good at lying, Jeff.”

Of all the things he wants to say, he reacts the most appropriately. “Shut the hell up, all of you,” he grumbles, flipping them off with both hands.

“That is a story I want to hear,” Kasumi’s voice comes from _way too close_. “How did you not recognize the Sole Survivor?”

“Look, when you’re in a bar, you’re smashed, and you’ve never seen someone outside of their armor, it’s an easy mistake. Do you see how much hair Nora has? It’s a great disguise.” Sitting to his right, he can hear Nora chuckling and mumbling incoherently. “Don’t you have things to do? Other than harass us?”

Chuckling, Zaeed leaves, and Karin departs shortly after. Jacob and Jack look at each other, shrug, and look back to them. “Not really,” Jack answers.

  
\- - -

 

A day and a half later, Nora’s still slurring. But the braces are gone. Her face responds normally. All things considered, it’s an insanely fast recovery. Her reflexes aren’t quite what they should be, though.

Miranda says as much in her report to the Illusive Man.

_The implants Commander Shepard was given have healed her with remarkable speed. What was basically a severe stroke has healed in less than a week._

_However, the cause of the cranial trauma which brought this about it under debate. Some believe it was emissions from Collector technology. Others have argued it was the implants themselves._

_I believe it may have to do with some drug interaction, combined with previous battlefield injuries. Doctor Chakwas recently had cause to start the Commander on a course of anti-psychotic medication. This, along with the drug being covertly administered to Shepard, may be harmful. I recommend ceasing dosage._

She sends the report. When the ping tells her it’s hit the comm buoy by the relay, she goes to sit on her bed, head in her hands. “I’m sorry, Shepard. If I had known… but there’s no use dwelling. I’ll do what I can.”

  
\- - -

  
Thane watches Shepard pace in the crew quarters, awaiting the assembly of the Cerberus crew. Miranda sits on a counter, poised and too calm. Shepard mutters under her breath as she paces. The room fills quickly, but there are still latecomers.

“Okay. I’m apologizing for mmmy speech. But thisss is important,” the commander starts. He can tell how much effort goes into each word. “I’m aware many of you are ex-Alliance. I know sssome of you are not. There is no shame in that. If you have ever had wwweapons training, please ssseparate to the left. If you have not, go to the right.”

More people are on the right than the left. But it’s surprisingly close. Thane, Zaeed, and Garrus move toward the left group. Miranda, Shepard, Ashley, and Jacob move towards the right. “If you specialized in anything, get the hell over in the corner with the drell,” Zaeed orders. “If you know how to run a pistol or an assault rifle, you’re with Vakarian. And if you know enough to say you know something, but not enough to know fuckin’ anything, you’re with me.”

Thane can’t help chuckling. The people he gets are all ex-Alliance, as Shepard speculated. One knows her way around a sniper rifle well enough to rattle off names of mods and rifles both. Two link arms when they find out they both love an old-fashioned Mattock. The last woman says with a grin, “I specialized in assault rifles and grenades. Best ever.”

His group does well when they move to the shuttle bay for target practice. All except Nastaran, who chucks a grenade at the target and calls it done. Across the room, he can see Shepard sitting with several people and explaining the basics of both pistols and SMGs. Miranda seems to already have a headache. Clearly, Ashley and Jacob are both in their elements. Zaeed’s busy teaching people “how to fuckin’ kill every goddamn thing”, and Garrus seems to just be working on aim.

It’s interesting to watch. What brought this on, he’s not sure. But with the hazards this ship has already seen, he’s too certain it will be necessary.

  
\- - -

  
Samara, Kasumi, Garrus, Jack, Zaeed, Jacob, Ashley, and Grunt all go with Shepard when she’s well enough to land on Haestrom. She would have taken a smaller team, considering how the Collector ship went. But when Joker found out she was going down, he called her to the cockpit. “Look, there’s at least three geth dropships in orbit. How many is that? Too many. Probably some colossus down there, a couple of platoons…”

“And me with no Mako,” she grumbles. “Noted, Jeff. Thank you.”

So the ground party is ridiculously large, and she had to sit next to Grunt on the way down. Garrus was on her other side, so at least she had pleasantly-metallic-scented turian, but krogan sweat is just as strong as everything else krogan.

“Let’s ride!” she roars when the shuttle lands. “Don’t stay in the sun, no matter what! You cook down here, I’ll eat scrambled eggs with your brains in!”

Jacob and Kasumi both raise eyebrows at her. She shrugs. “A little much, Shep?” Kasumi purrs when she slides by.

“Yeah, okay,” she mumbles. She’s the last from the shuttle, and the last to hurtle down the giant ramp, through the scorching sun. Compared to the eerie cool of the Collector ship, it’s wonderful.

  
\- - -

  
Kal’Reegar has little hope. He finally admits it when another shot from the colossus erodes his already small cover. He has a single radio, a rocket launcher, and not much else. Five heatsinks. No more grenades. Three more marines.

So this time, when he pops up and squeezes shots off, he starts a prayer as he sinks back into cover. _Ancestors, grant me what I ask for. Let my death bring Tali’zorah to the data she needs. Let me join your ranks, I with my small wisdom, to swell your greater wisdom. Let us one day —_

Sharp and piercing, a war cry interrupts his prayer. Not near him, but over his comm. It sounds nothing like any of his marines, but he has to check. “Squad leader, Kal’Reegar! Check in!” he calls through it. His only answer for a minute is the wonderful shriek of dying geth. He calls again, and again, and —

“Kal’Reegar. Commander Shepard of the Normandy,” comes a woman’s smooth voice. “I’m here to provide assistance. Sorry we’re late.”

Relief almost weakens him. But he’s in battle. There can’t be weakness. “Patch in to 617 Theta.” He breathes out and shudders as more of his cover erodes. “This was a high-risk stealth mission. We found what we were after —”

“And the geth did too, since they’re after you,” she replies. “Assuming you can’t reach your ship, either?”

“No.” He pops up, fires a shot, and overloads shields in three smooth movements. “We’re pinned down. Can’t reach our ship, can’t transmit because of the radiation… it’s a bad position.”

“Sit rep on your team?” More gunfire in the background. Not near him, but over the comm.

“Less than half strength.” She makes an accepting noise and replies.

“Alright. There’s three dropships in orbit, but the Normandy has eyes on them.” She laughs and adds, “Plus we have a turian who likes calibrating the guns way too much, so they shouldn’t be much of a problem. Send me your position, and I’ll be on my way.”

He does so. The colossus shoots again. His cover’s nearly gone, so he darts for the stairs, where his marines hide. He doesn’t see the geth hunter following him.

  
\- - -

  
Jack watches the pillar fall. “Well, shit,” she announces, and flips off the ship, the pillar, and the geth peering around far away corners. “The hell do we do now?”

Shepard pushes past her and hurls a singularity at the geth. “We spread out. If we’re lucky, either the geth have something explosive, or the quarians did. All else fails, we have four biotics, two grenade-happy jerks, and a krogan. We’ll get through.”

Ashley and Kasumi go with Jack. As they sprint from cover to cover, Jack’s never been so happy for her armor. It’s sweaty as _balls._ But she’s not cooking in the sun. Fair trade. It doesn’t take long for more geth to show up, coming out of a room filled with barrels. There’s at least five, all in a clump. But Jack’s in the sun and she kinds of hates sweating. A lot. So she pushes her body just that little bit more, fires a spray of biotic energy at her own feet, and somersaults into the air to land amid the geth. None of them expect it, clicking and making weird technology sounds.

So she takes the opportunity to send a shockwave out from her feet. “Damn, I love a good fight!” she shouts, charging at one of the geth and shoving her fist straight through its lantern head.

 _Ratatatatata!_ comes the sound of Ashley’s gun, followed by Kasumi’s soft, “Oh! I have a gift for you!”

“Your catch phrase is annoying!” she yells, spinning and letting another shockwave rip loose.

“I have only said it twice,” Kasumi complains. “And it’s a gift! What else do you call a shield disruptor in your suit?”

Jack just rolls her eyes and kicks through a geth torso. Then, lovely and beautiful, she catches sight of it next to a quarian corpse. _Explosives._ “My day just got so much better,” she breathes.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt takes great joy in stomping in the head of a barely living geth. The others glance around, make comments about the architecture. He’s all eyes for the disassembled shotgun on a table.

And then, like they didn’t have enough distractions, a quarian starts trying to hail them. “Tali’zorah to base camp. Come in, base camp. Is anyone there?”

Shepard’s distracted by an ancient-looking safe. So he answers it. Opening the comm-link, he barks, “No.”

“Grunt!” Vakarian shouts. “What — oh, spirits.”

Shepard spins. Two seconds, and she knows exactly what happened. “Grunt! Don’t answer the phone if you don’t know who it is!” she scolds him. It sounds exactly like the scolding of every female krogan in his memories.

And hey, it **was** funny. “What? Who’s there?” the voice calls.

“Heheheh,” he chortles, and heads over to the gun while Shepard talks.

“Tali. It’s me. Commander Came Back From The Dead,” she cracks. That’s another laugh for Grunt. Humans aren’t usually so callous about dying. “My team and I are the only ones here. I’m sorry.”

  
\- - -

  
“…I’m sorry.” She can’t help staring at Shepard’s helmet. Fuzzy though it is, it’s clearly the commander. She’s the only one who ever bastardizes her own title like that. Well, her and Joker. But Joker doesn’t leave the Normandy.

Then the words sink in. “This… this was a high risk mission. We all knew it.” She drops her head into her palm and sighs. “Damn it.” But her mind’s too inquisitive to mourn in a battle zone. “What are you even doing here, Shepard? This is the middle of geth space!”

“Well, if my boss wasn’t a complete shithead, I would have been here…” She pauses and counts on her fingers. “I was out for a day and a half, and took two and a half more to recover. Plus travel. So I could have been here a week ago. But… long story short, I’m here now. I’m here to help, Tali.”

Tali can’t help her smile. “Thank you, Shepard. It means a lot. It’s good to hear your voice.”

And then she _really_ knows it’s Nora when she laughs. “Oooh la la, Tali, don’t flatter me like that!” she teases.

“I — uh — _Shepard!”_ she squeaks. “Not now! I’m in the observatory. It’s not far. Kal’Reegar and the other marines got me in here. Just start charging, and don’t stop.”

“Assuming there’s lot of geth outside, we’ll be right there,” comes a familiar turian drawl.

Her heart stops. “Garrus?”

“It’s all the rage on Omega to call me Archangel. But yes.”

“Keelah se’lai!” She really, really doesn’t know how to react. “Just… just hurry and get over here!”

  
\- - -

  
Jack, Ashley, and Grunt all charge into battle together, streaking by an injured quarian marine. Only Jack has a war-cry. Ashley’s stunned by its eloquence. “Suck my ass, you robotic sons-of-bitches!”

Nora and Garrus let out breathy laughs over the comm. The others just laugh and settle into position. From her place in the middle of the field, shotgunning down geth from cover, Ashley can hear the commander’s voice as she negotiates with Kal’Reegar. It all stays very civil until the last geth in the immediate vicinity falls. She turns to slide back towards the others just in time to hear, “You sit your ass the _hell_ down, Reegar! I have an entire team specifically because of that!” Ashley follows the line of Nora’s outflung arm.

“Oh, hey. Colossus,” she remarks. It’s lost in the yelling.

“The fleet’s lost enough good soldiers today! Nobody needs a suicide run because you think you failed! That’s some turian bullshit!” Ashley approaches to hear, as a quieter aside, “Sorry, Garrus. You know it’s true.”

He just hums in reply. “Let’s kick some ass,” Grunt growls, pacing beside Ashley. She rolls her eyes, reaches over, and yanks him out of the sun.

“Pay attention to your shields. Not all of us have unlimited shield generator batteries, like _Nora,”_ she tells him, stretching the last word out into a taunt. The commander stands then, as if cued, and marches down the ramp.

“Just like old times,” Garrus rumbles as they fall into step, creeping around the edges of the area. Repair protocols and all, the thing barely stands a chance. If it were alive, Ashley would feel bad. (She doesn’t.)

Tali joins them with barely a murmur. It was expected. What wasn’t expected was for Nora to turn to Reegar, hand outstretched, and say, “You’re sure you don’t want to come with us? You’re a good soldier. It’ll be useful to have another one of those around. And the Normandy has a lot of special edition weaponry…”

Reegar’s on the fence. But after a minute, he sighs and says, “I can’t. I need to get back to the fleet.”

  
\- - -

  
Before the ground team’s back from Haestrom, Miranda gets a hail from the Illusive Man. It’s top-secret, so she creeps into the meeting room and activates the QEC. “Where is Shepard?” he demands, before she’s even fully loaded.

“On Haestrom, doing her best to recruite Tali’zorah, I assume,” she replies, stung.

“And why hasn’t she reported to me about the Collector ship yet?” He draws on his cigarette, clearly trying to stay patient. “I am a busy man. I have things I need to be doing. I don’t have time to wait around for Shepard.”

Inside her, something recoils. “With all due respect, sir, she’s barely been able to do anything the past few days. Even now, she’s on the back lines on Haestrom. Only the amount of the geth ships in the system stopped Chakwas from keeping her aboard.” She shakes her head and sighs. “She… it was like a stroke, sir. The fact she’s recovered at all —”

“I don’t want excuses, Miranda. Get me Shepard.” He reclines in his chair and blows a smoke ring. “And what’s this about the drug? We’re not ceasing it.”

Something else shivers, and perhaps it dies. “Perhaps just reducing her dosage, sir… it hasn’t been tested effectively, especially not with any kind of anti-psychotic or depressant. It could very well damage her permanently,” she explains, wringing her hands. “I believe it may have contributed to her emotional instability as well.”

“Follow your orders, Miranda. We need Shepard at the top of her game. And that means we need her to be as powerful, or more powerful, than Subject Zero. The Reapers aren’t going to lay down and die. Neither are we.”

With that, the QEC winks out. Miranda stares at the wall for twenty-five minutes, barely breathing. Then she opens her omnitool, to a program squirreled away in the very, very far reaches.

_Dosage: 100 grams per meal._

_LOWER/HEIGHTEN?_

Her finger hovers over the _LOWER_ control. Her lip, already bloody from being bitten, gets sucked into her mouth again. And…

She shuts the program, leaving the meeting room. “I’m sorry, Shepard,” she breathes as she leaves.

  
\- - -

  
Elsewhere on the Normandy, an omnitool pings.

  
_Operative #53099_

_Increase the dosage being administered. I have reason to believe her other dosage may be decreased against orders._

Two minutes later, a reply goes out.

 

_Of course, sir._


	8. Heartblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is a mess. Nora starts letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the completed version of this chapter. I apologize for the wait.
> 
> Teavihk is my headcanon name for the turian language. There are snippets throughout of human foreign languages. I know a little, and I've attempted to make it make sense without being Google Translate bingo.
> 
> Still feels incomplete. May come back to this. Also, I'm having a hard time with Tali. Please let me know how far off I am. 
> 
> Also also I'm never certain how my humor comes off.

Before she’s even wiped the sweat from her face, Joker swivels around and calls out, “Call from the Illusive Man in the comm room.” Nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing, she nods. Joker grins and adds, “Figure you’ve got a word or two for him, too!”

“Oh, I’ve got something,” Nora grumbles. “Tali, follow Garrus and Ashley down to the shuttle bay. There’s a place in the CIC for you to stow your weapon, but most of us store our armor in the bay so Ashley can do something useful when you’re bored.”

“No need to be an ass, Skipper,” Ashley protests. It’s clearly half-hearted. Nora stalks away, anger simmering beneath her skin. For the first time in far too long, it doesn’t override all her senses.

“Shepard,” the Illusive Man greets her as soon as the QEC activates. “Looks like EDI extracted some interesting data before the Collector ship came back online.” It’s such a bland, neutral statement, without a hint of the shenanigans he had to go through to get them there. Perhaps, if she hadn’t been slapped back into reality by Harbinger’s attack, it might not have angered her the way it does now.

“Yeah. She found a lot of stuff.” She leans back on one foot and crosses her arms. “I’ve — you know, I’m tired of calling you the Illusive Man. It’s really pretentious. Can I call you Robert?” He blinks, and she forges on without pause. “I’m calling you Robert. I already saw a lot of what EDI retrieved, Robert. Not only did we find a lot of interesting intel, we also found out you’re a lying bastard.” Perhaps it’s the sickly sweetness of her voice that stops him from replying. “That’s not surprising. But what is surprising is that you sent one of your most expensive assets into danger. Extreme danger. Care to explain?”

He doesn’t respond to her sardonic eyebrow well. “I don’t need to explain myself, Shepard. I’m in charge —”

“I’d sure appreciate it, Robert. How much did you say the Lazarus Project embezzled? Six million credits? So you sent well over six million credits into danger, along with two of your most loyal agents. I can’t say Miranda and Jacob appreciated that.” She omits the part where Miranda stayed on the ship. “What if your gamble hadn’t paid off? What would you do with your best resource to fight the Collectors gone?”

“This insolence, Shepard —” he snarls, face contorting. She cuts him off again.

“What about it? I hope you didn’t expect me to be respectful to you constantly.” Nora huffs and tosses her head. “I am not, nor will I ever be, the kind of racist Cerberus loves. You’re supposed to be focused on human interests, not on saving humanity at the cost of the rest of the galaxy.” Her voice twists, coming close to a snarl before reining herself in. “Attempting to stop the Collectors is a morally sound choice. Even overheated guns make good projectiles, though. I have no doubt once the Collectors aren’t a threat to humans, you’ll be back where you were. Recruiting blatant racists and spewing anti-alien lies, like there aren’t a good dozen aliens I can _personally_ vouch for being better people than half the humans I know.”

He doesn’t say anything. Silence, for just a second. She adds, “I’m an Alliance soldier at heart. Whether or not I was ready to retire from the service, I’m no traitor. Don’t expect me to be a sycophant, Robert.”

“I don’t expect you to be a sycophant. I don’t even expect loyalty, Shepard. I expect the soldier I hired to be professional,” he spits. “Yes, I knew the Collector ship was a trap. We needed information on the Omega-4. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

Shifting feet, Nora can’t help the sigh. “That’s not what I’m arguing. Intel is important. Going into that situation unprepared could have very well spelled out doom for us. If I hadn’t taken such a large team, we could’ve come out a lot worse.”

He smiles around his cigarette and puffs on it. “Ah, yes. About your tendency to take large teams afield —” She’s interrupted enough times to lose count.

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” she quips at him. “Deal with it. I take the people I trust and the skills I need. And we need a team that can trust each other. We don’t have time for me to take one person for icecream on Ilium, and another for sushi on the Citadel, and piss around. Until you have military rank, Robbie, stow it.”

His offended sniff almost makes her laugh. “I see. We’ll talk another time, when you’re being more reasonable.” The image winks out. She almost flips him off before the QEC field disintegrates, but thinks better of it. She is occasionally professional, after all.

  
\- - -

  
In the cockpit, Joker, Garrus, Tali, Jack, and Ashley all _roar_ with laughter as Nora stalks from the comm room. Everyone capable of doing so ends up wiping tears from their eyes, still giggling madly. “Fuck, that was beautiful,” Jack whimpers, holding her stomach. “Robert! Jesus!”

The mention of the name sends them all back into a gale of laughter. “Shepard’s sense of humor didn’t get any better, I see,” Tali eventually gasps out.

“Oh, God, she cracked those weird-ass fucking jokes on you too?” Jack asks. She stands, a little wobbly, from laughing so hard she had to sit down. “Who the hell told her those were good ideas? Like the anti-grav one!”

“I _love_ hearing her tell that joke!” Ashley cackles. Garrus just rumbles, leaning on the back of the co-pilot chair, still chortling.

Tali squints at everyone for a moment — or rather, her lights look smaller — before she clasps her hands and wiggles with glee. “Oh! Yes! I **love** those jokes!” Rubbing her hands together, she adds, “I have a favorite. Broken pencils are pointless!”

This time, Garrus is the first to throw his head back and laugh. Jack just stares between the laughing crewmembers and groans, “Oh, fuck, she brought reinforcements.”

Joker fairly howls at that, curling up in his chair and clutching his chest. “Please — no more — gonna crack a rib! Too much!”

Tali joins in with the laughter again, the sound echoing down the CIC despite the closed doors.

  
\- - -

  
“Miranda?” Lost in thought, distracted by her food, she didn’t hear Shepard approaching. Only the knowledge she’s safe on ship keeps her from hurling a warp as she jumps to her feet.

“Oh! Shepard! I apologize. You startled me.” She offers a weak smile, mind on her omnitool. “The, ah, entree is particularly good today.”

“I saw. Only mostly questionable meat instead of wholly questionable!” she replies, little grin sliding into place. “Don’t worry, Chef. I’m kidding,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Listen, Miranda. I had a question.”

She exhales. _Here it comes._ “Yes?” she replies, quietly.

“Did you ever think about sending Oriana to a biotics school?” Nora asks, leaning forward.

 _That’s not the question I expected,_ and Miranda’s too shell-shocked to answer right away. “I — why?” she stammers.

“You’re a biotic, she’s a biotic. Even if she doesn’t go into any kind of fighting, it’s better for her to have some kind of control, right?” Shepard glances down at her plate, wrinkles her nose, and takes a bite of vat-grown Salisbury steak.

“Well, yes. But I had thought to provide her a tutor —” Miranda starts.

“Why? It’ll give more experience and it’ll be harder for your father to track her down if you do something else, right? You kidnapped her — sorry, not kidnapped, but you know. She was a baby. For all he knows, she’s not a biotic.” Another stab at her steak before she pushes the hydroponic veggies around her plate. “Sweet heavens, what I wouldn’t give for a plate of mac and cheese,” she mumbles under her breath.

Miranda ignores that part. “You’re not wrong. But it’ll separate her from her family, and I do want her to have a family,” she points out.

Nora’s fork halts halfway to her mouth, the commander seemingly unknowing of the dripping gravy. “I, uh, you’re joking? Right?” she asks, voice terribly dubious. “You don’t stop being family with someone because they’re farther away. That’s not how that works.”

If Nora hadn’t sounded quite so dubious, Miranda might not have bristled as much. “Because you’re so qualified on how families work, Shepard?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t actually an orphan.”

Shepard sighs and sets her fork down. “It doesn’t take me long to learn things, Miranda. I’ve seen enough families to tell good ones and bad ones apart. And the good ones can’t be separated by anything but death.” She leans forward and rests her chin in her hand, elbow on table. “Did you know Joker has a sister? Her name’s Hilary. She wants to be a pilot, but she’s amazingly skilled at all sorts of things for a fifteen year old. He hasn’t seen her in four years outside of the occasional video call. But he still loves her. Does that sound like they let distance get in the way?”

Miranda doesn’t have an answer for that. So she returns to her steak. After a moment, she opens her omnitool and leaves herself a note. _Find a restaurant that serves macaroni and cheese._ It cheers her as she thinks over what Nora said — or, it does until she catches sight of the program regulating the drug’s intake.

She watches Nora finish the plate and go back for seconds, guilt gluing her to her chair.

  
\- - -

  
Jacob’s fretting. He really, **really** doesn’t fret often. But this message — maybe it was his contact that forwarded it. Maybe it wasn’t.

But it might — his father — _what if?_

“I have to ask for leave,” he mumbles, sitting on the weapons table with his head in his hands. Even if the really big weapons get kept in the shuttle bay with the armor, it’s still a bad idea.

He doesn’t really care right now.

  
\- - -

  
Every time he opens the datapad, reading it makes Garrus ill. Not physically. But he can’t help but question, _How did I never notice?_ Down to the way she commands, what she expects of people — it’s like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces slotting into place.

“It’s not like it’s all she is,” he mumbles to himself in lower Teavikh. It’s not entirely safe, but most translators are only tuned to higher Teavikh. Palaven doesn’t like advertising their slums. “But…” Staring at the datapad with reading, he turns thoughts over in his head. None of them are of much substance.

“Ding dong!” Nora’s voice calls out as the doors to the battery woosh open. Startled, he fumbles the datapad and almost drops it as she strides in. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” When the skin under his neck turns dark, her smile turns sly and she drawls, “Or should I leave you? Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

He exhales, brain suddenly more mush than mess hall food. _Don’t think about how she sounds like a turian when her voice drops like that. Don’t think about — no, no, no, **especially don’t think about Ilium,** Vakarian!_ “I, uh, no?” he offers, hiding the datapad. “Just… embarrassed. A human shouldn’t be able to sneak up on me.”

She snorts. Her laughter’s a welcome sound, especially after his reading. “Okay, mister apex predator.” She walks across the room and hikes herself up on the railing behind the computers. “Am I allowed to ask what you were reading?”

Dragging his attention away from her ankles proves harder than he thought. She’s taken to wearing knee-length skirts and colored shirts with tiny buttons around the ship. The way she's sitting is a very advantageous angle. “Just some research on the Thanix cannon.”

“Thaaat’s why you were absorbed,” she says with a grin. “Imagining your calibrations?”

His mandibles flare. “Why does everyone suddenly seem obsessed with calibrating the guns?” he grumbles.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Garrus, but you’re _literally_ always in here. I’ve seen you outside the gun battery like six times since you got on the ship, not counting the times you’re in the med bay.” Then her lips turn into what’s he learned is a truly devilish smirk. “If I’m not mistaking, Joker’s got about seven different, ah, ways he uses the word calibrations now.” She leans forward, almost tipping off the railing, but not quite. “Most of them are about sex,” she confides in a whisper.

“Uh,” is his eloquent reply.

“EDI, back me up. Am I lying?” she demands, glancing to the ceiling.

The AI’s orb pops up to his left. “She is not, Officer Vakarian. Mr. Moreau has accumulated fourteen and a half different ways to use the word calibrations in a manner suggesting sexual relations with oneself,” she informs him.

“…and a half?” is all he can think.

“He said it is a work in progress.” Garrus’s jaw drops as the orb disappears. Shepard’s soft huffs of laughter draw his attention back to her.

“Told you so,” she sing songs. “But to make up for telling you that, I think we’ll be able to get your Thanix installed. I’ve had Nastaran and Kelly sending out probes in every system.” She pauses and amends, “Well, not every system. But it gives them something to do while we’re ground-side.”

That shocks him out of his — well, shock. “I hope you’re not lying, Shepard.”

“Nope! It’s not a custom Widow, but hopefully this’ll make me your favorite CO,” she jokes.

“What, you weren’t already?” he bats back at her, recalling their conversation on Ilium. “Where are we getting it installed?”

“That’s where you come in. I need some trustworthy, preferably non-Cerberus, techs to help us get it in. Recommendations?” Her eyebrows are almost as much of a question as her voice.

“I’ll start looking.”

  
\- - -

  
Meditation allows many things. Samara retains knowledge of her surroundings, despite being in a trance. Indeed, she knows Shepard will come to her before she even touches the door. Though not the same amount of power as Jack, she can feel the commander’s biotics coming down the hall.

“Hello, Nora,” she greets her when the door opens.

“Did you sense a disturbance in the Force when I decided to come see you?” the commander asks, sitting down. Her voice sounds as if she expects a laugh.

“Something like that, yes,” she responds instead. “May I help you?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sorry to interrupt your meditation,” Shepard murmurs.

“It is no trial. I have much time, and I have said before it is… nice to be able to work with others again,” Samara replies, opening her eyes and turning to Nora, biotics gently fading to set her on the floor. “What is it you seek?”

“You’re an asari,” Nora states, very calmly, and bluntly. She appears to be searching for more words, but none come. Samara prompts with a little gentle humor of her own.

“You are observant.” The remark gets her a flat-eyed look of bemusement.

“I mean…” She sighs. “There are no asari without biotic powers. Just less potent ones. I have a question about biotics, and I had hoped —” she pauses, clearly on the edge of asking her question.

“I have much experience. I will attempt to answer whatever you ask,” Samara tells her. It visibly reassures her. For a few seconds, she ponders on how odd it is, that asari should find soulmates in those so much younger than them. Nora seems a prime example — no asari would attain such a rank at least than two hundred and fifty years of age. Yet, here this young human sits, along with many other humans, in leadership.

But it is a point to consider for later. “I made an offhand remark to Garrus while we were on the Collector base, regarding my biotics. He’s a turian, and not very… biotically educated, I suppose you could say, but I’m a little worried I’m anomalous now.” She shifts her weight on the chair, still uneasy. “I asked Miranda when it crossed my mind, and she didn’t know what I was on about.”

Samara arches a browbone. “You are doing everything to get to the point, except actually talking about it,” she points out. Nora flushes, the red going all the way down her neck.

“Yes. I, uh, yes.” She takes a deep breath and proceeds to babble. “I can — I mean sorta — I’ve always used my biotics as kind of a sonar to tell me where stuff is and that’s apparently not something everyone does because it really freaked Garrus out when I told him I could always feel him on my six?”

Despite the babble, Samara catches the question. “It is not unusual, though not a skill most master. I do not believe I have seen it in most races of biotics, and there are many asari who never care to learn. It is useful.” She pauses and hums for a second before adding, “Tell me, how is your control? Not in generalities, but if I asked you to pick a medigel induction port off the floor, could you without harming it?”

Nora tilts her head. “Uh, well, no. Probably not. I’m good with a lot of smaller items, but something about two-thirds the size of a datapad is my limit. Why?”

“Such a skill is generally limited to those with finer control. Most do not see the need to hone their biotics beyond basic fighting level. Indeed, most master two or three skills and go no farther for the rest of their lives. Only asari go beyond such, and presumably only due to our life span.” And then, Samara leans forward and asks something she has been curious about since seeing Nora in action. “How did you come to such a level of proficiency with so many biotic skills? Jack is the only other human I have seen with so many.”

Nora’s eyes go wide and stunned. “Uh. I… tried… them?” she offers after a moment. “I dunno. I saw people do stuff. It looked neat. I tried it and it worked. Didn’t know there was a limit on skills, honestly.” Her laughter’s weak, more a sham than anything. Samara lets both browbones rise, but drops it.

“I see.” She hums and pats the floor. “If you wish, I can teach you how to further hone your biotic abilities.”

After a second, Nora blinks so rapidly Samara thinks something must have gone wrong. “Are you kidding? Is there any answer to that but _hell yeah?”_

Samara has to stifle her laugh, though not much. “Yes, though seemingly not one **you** would voice.” Before the first word is even out of her mouth, the commander’s flopped to the ground and adopted a pose much like Samara’s own.

“Ready, teacher!” she says, grin infectious. An hour later, when Samara has done nothing but teach her how to clear her mind, the smile is less… exuberant.

“Are you comfortable?” Samara asks. “Can you feel every exhale, every muscle, and yet remain calm? Do not deny the thoughts crossing your mind. Acknowledge them, and let them go.” Nora nods, breathes out, and shifts. Just a bit. She’s noticed over the past hour the commander is nearly entirely unable to stay completely still. If she sits, her fingers tap, her leg jitters — she even noticed slight movement inside the sensible shoes Nora’s wearing. Asari are vaunted for their flexibility. Nora’s ‘this is comfortable’ position still unnerves her. She’s never seen someone sit like this for so long — one knee drawn halfway to her chest, the other leg thrown between her torso and thigh, her right arm looped under her foot at the elbow and the other resting atop the tangle of limbs.

“What if they don’t leave?” Nora asks, voice soft and controlled.

“Then admit it. A thought unwilling to leave is a thought that haunts you. Peace cannot be had while you are haunted. Breathe. Focus on it. Speak it out loud, imagine sending it in a letter, imagine a conclusion — it is up to you. Do not let it haunt you any longer.” Nora’s eyes flutter open and settle on Samara. If it had been another asari, the look would have sent shivers up her spine. It still isn’t far off.

  
\- - -

  
Occupied with his latest datapad, Garrus leaves the gun battery. Then he shakes his head and turns about. “EDI, can you tell me where Shepard is?”

“She is about to leave the starboard observation deck,” EDI tells him. “Will that be all?”

“Thanks,” he gives her and hurries off. Just as he reaches the women’s restroom, EDI’s nearby orb pops up.

“I would advise a moment’s wait. She is speaking with Samara,” the computer warns him. He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts, but it’s not a bad idea. Samara might pulp him if he burst in at the wrong time. So he leans against the wall, one leg propping him up, and reviews his notes. His scars start itching, so he eyes the hallway to the medbay. No doctor in sight. One glove comes off and he sighs, scratching the itch with his talons.

Ten minutes or so later, the door whooshes open and Nora exits. Nothing’s changed from when he saw her an hour and a half ago, but something has. Her clothing is the same, everything else — hm. No. Something about her eyes is easier, as if a weight is gone. “Shepard, I have some people I think —”

“Mmhmm. Can I — can you — ffffft.” She blows air from her mouth, sending loose hair flying. “Bring it to me later? Going up to my cabin for… important stuff. Yeah.”

He squints at her, a little non-plussed. “…are you — did Samara get you drunk, Shepard?” he asks in surprise. It’s the only other time he’s ever heard her quite so ineloquent.

“Nope. Better. Taught me meidta — miditat —  meditation. It’s…” She smiles at him. It’s like a gut punch. It’s not any of the smiles he’s used to now. This is one of the old Normandy’s smiles, like an exploding star in exuberance. There never was any reason for her to be that way. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it. “It’s like I had a dozen relays in my head, all at once, and now it’s down to half that.” She leans forward, almost stumbling. He catches her by the arm with one hand —

 _Shit. I never put my glove back on._ Talons are naturally sharp, but they take filing to be weapons against other turians. Humans, though, are far softer. Muscle and skin shift beneath his fingers, so _close_ to the surface and so vulnerable. “Uh,” he mumbles, pulling his hand away.

She laughs, grin never fading, and steps closer. “Keep my secret, Garrus?” He inhales sharply, mandibles flaring, but doesn’t know how to respond.

 _Does that mean she knows I know?_ he wonders, more than a bit panicked. And — _oh, spirits. How do you tell your commander…_

“I’m going to my cabin to sleep,” she whispers. “I’m almost half-asleep already.” His heart stops trying to fly to the nearest relay through his plating. “I haven’t been able to sleep right since I got back… from being dead. Even if I can just get a couple of _good_ hours…”

She steps away, swaying slightly. He laughs, far calmer now. “My information can wait. I think you might need an escort,” he teases. “What was that Joker told me you called yourself? Commander Crippled?”

Nora rolls her eyes at him. “I’ll get there. Might doze off in the elevator, but I’ll get there eventually.” He rolls his eyes right back.

“Come on,” he grumbles. Nothing. He sidles closer and wraps his arm — _what the hell did I do with my other glove?_ — around her shoulders. “Before you fall asleep in the middle of the corridor.” She acquiesces this time when he gently tugs her toward the elevator.

“Did you talk to Tali yet?” she asks, leaning her head back to look up at him. “And I never got to ask her if I got the right kind of dextro rations…”

He snorts and calls the elevator. “She won’t get to taste too much of it, anyway. It’s a good thing Mordin knows how to jury-rig purification systems for quarians.”

“Won’t — hey! You used me!” she complains, shuffling into the elevator.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” he drawls. “EDI, to the captain’s cabin, if you will.” When he turns around, Nora’s humming and bobbing her head.

Suddenly, she halts. “Oh! I should ask Miranda if she can play the piano!”

“…are you sure you’re not drunk?” For the few minutes it takes them to get to her cabin, she slides between babbling and standing, eyelids fluttering. By the time the doors ding open to her cabin, she’s barely holding her head up. “We’re here, Nora,” he tells her, voice gentle.

“Mmm,” she replies, starting forward and stumbling. She rights herself, but when she stumbles on the non-existent lip of the elevator, he sighs.

“Here.” Just as she rights herself again, he moves forward, pressing his arm to the back of her shoulders once again. By the way she yelps and windmills, nearly falling backwards, it was unexpected. “I’m starting to think I should have carried you up. It would have been less trouble.”

She leans her head back as the door to her cabin opens and purrs at him, “Why, Mr. Vakarian, sir, are you trying to sweep me off my feet?”

Again, his mandibles flare, and he’s less a response. Luckily, EDI pops up. “Would you like me to choose a soundtrack, Commander?”

“Mmm, something nice,” she tells the AI, flopping her hand at the orb. “Time for sleepin’.” Without further ado, she bolts across the cabin and catapults face-first into her bed.

“Tell me, or, uh, Tali, if she has any nightmares or anything,” he tells EDI quietly. His exit’s without fanfare, though it is accompanied by the swell of a strange, earthly instrument, opening a song.

Going down in the elevator, he stares at his hands. “What are you doing, Garrus?” he asks himself. Now, for absolutely no reason, he finds himself regretful he didn’t carry her up to her cabin. He’s only ever carried her when she was injured. And her legs would have been —

 _Stop that!_ he hisses at his brain. _This is no time to develop a human fetish, especially not for your commanding officer! And she’s sick! She needs a friend, not…_ He can’t even think the words, so he exhales angrily and decides to go down to engineering after all. Maybe Tali can kick some sense into him.

  
\- - -

  
Nora sleeps. She sleeps ridiculously well. For once, she does not wake up with nightmares of Akuze, of Horizon, of all the people she’s ever failed. When she lies down to sleep, there is no tossing and turning. Six and a half hours later, she wakes, still in the same position she was in when she lost consciousness.

And then, she writes a letter. It’s not on her terminal. Instead, she searches her drawers and pulls out an actual paper notebook and ink pen. “I see whoever stocked this cabin did their research on me,” she mumbles, and clicks the end of the pen. The writing itself makes her hesitate, but once the ink stains the pen, it leaves her in something like a long breath.

 

_Adelio, oh, mi Adelio, corazon y vida,_

_I still miss you. I do not think I will ever stop._

_It has been so long since Akuze, and yet not long enough. 2180. You were to continue in the reserves, and I was to leave the service. I kept the deed for the house we bought in northern Georgia. I didn’t sell it until I was assigned to the Tokyo — until I realized how little chance I had of finding someone else like you._

_You’re gone. You, who became home to me at first sight. You, who taught me not all rules should be followed._

_Would you be proud of where I am, Adelio? Would you kiss me breathless, as you once did, and declare, “I knew you were wonderful all along!” as you liked to boast? Or would you lambast me for fraternizing with the enemy? Cerberus is not a glamorous place, not one I wish to be, but I am helping here for now. Every time I see the Illusive Man’s ridiculously pretentious face, I wonder if he knew anything about Akuze._

_Some days, when my worst parts come to the forefront, I dream of what I would do if I knew he caused Akuze._

_For you, I would have toppled worlds. Instead, I have toppled only myself._

_Te amo, te amo, te amo, y nunca olvido._

 

She stares at the page when she’s done, tears staining the lined page and smearing the ink. Nose running, eyes aching with emotion, she tears the page out.

“I wish I could burn this,” she whispers to the letter clutched in her shaking hands. “I wish I could bring you back.” Instead, she crumbles the paper and lets it drop to the floor, mashing it underfoot. Her body shivers with a quiet, controlled sob. “But you’re never coming back, and I thought I’d already moved on.”

Her shower washes away the salt-stains on her cheeks. It doesn’t wash away the phantom pain in her heart, lingering like a bad cough.

  
\- - -

 

Tali’s been frantically working on everything she can get her hands on for hours when she finally pauses. It’s a short pause, just long enough to grab a bag of _iak_ and _muler_ paste for her filter, and _citar_ juice, but it’s a pause.

She takes the moment while her suit double checks the food for contamination and looks around her drive core. It’s only newly hers, yes, but she’d sooner be exiled than let Cerberus engineers do all the work. Perched on the railing overlooking the core, she can see them. If they weren’t ex-Alliance with sterling service records, she’d have dumped them into the shuttle bay and turned Chatika's friend-foe system off.

Her suit dings. Supper’s ready. She lowers her head to check her omnitool before eating, and the door opens just seconds later. It’s Shepard, looking… well, better. Taking off her helmet, back on the Normandy, had shocked Tali more than she thought possible. Nora’s smile had been crooked, her skin seemed too pale for even **Nora,** and — well. She looks better now.

“Kenneth, Gabby,” Nora greets the other engineers. “Wrapping up for night cycle?”

“Aye, Commander. Or at least I’m tryin’. Gabby wants to stick around. I have designs on a game o' poker up in the lounge,” Kenneth grumbles.

“Look, poker is less important than making sure the Normandy at maximum efficiency. I just need a little longer, and —” Gabby’s cut off by Shepard’s low laugh.

“Did you forget Tali is here now?” she asks, eyes dancing. “Maximum efficiency for the Normandy will be like fitting the square block into the square hole for her. Wrap up and go, guys. I’m pretty sure Zaeed’s got ‘designs’ on some of Kasumi’s liquor.” With that, she turns and heads towards Tali herself.

“Shepard!” she greets her, springing from the railing with her arms open wide. “You remembered I exist!”

Nora’s eyebrows raise. “I’m pretty sure I told Garrus to tell you I was taking a bit of personal time before I came to see you. Did he not?”

Tali laughs and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Garrus was here, yes. Did you tell about your human version of suit sickness? He was very full of questions.” Nora snorts.

“I think he figured it out on his own, actually.” Tali wiggles back up onto the railing. Nora leans against it, one hip on the railing and one hand near Tali’s hip. “What kind of questions, anyway? I have to admit curiosity as to what turians think of depression.”

“Well, first, he started out asking what I thought of the ship’s AI.” Crossing her arms, she huffs, “I don’t know what he thought I would say. But then he went into disparaging the leader of Cerberus. After that, he got reticent. I had to threaten him to get to talk.”

Nora blinks and lets a little half-grin dangle. “What threat?”

“I told him I would make his omnitool project naked elcor on every flat surface it could find,” she mumbles. The bray of laughter is mostly expected. She still jumps. Nobody in the flotilla is _ever_ as casually loud as Nora is. “And then he asked the stupidest question I have ever heard.” She pauses, for dramatic effect, and turns to fully face Shepard. Lowering her voice, she mimicks Garrus, “Have you ever noticed anything strange about Shepard?”

“Ppppffffbt!” Nora sputters. “Seriously? _Seriously?”_

Tali lets her own giggles join Nora’s deeper laughter. “Seriously! I almost wondered if he was the real Garrus! But he was so awkward about it, it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

Nora snorts, again, and calms. “I’m assuming you filled him in on suit sickness, then?”

“Yes. Not entirely, but enough that he understood why I knew, and he didn’t.” Tali taps her fingers on top of Shepard’s, where they rest on the railing. Something else different from the flotilla — this little bit of casual touch. “Does everyone think quarians can read minds? It’s just body language.” Suddenly, she can’t help stiffening. “And I tried to be discreet about handling suit sickness, and he thought — ugh! Garrus! I was so disappointed!”

Nora blinks at her again, eyes wide in confusion, before they narrow. “What did he think?”

“He thought I meant we killed the sick quarians! Keelah se’lai! Eugenics is a dirty word,” she grouses.

This time, Shepard’s shock almost makes Tali laugh. “Today, on oblivious turians,” she finally sighs.

“But that’s about it. I sent him some extranet references on human depression, and how quarians deal with suit sickness.” She leans forward and whispers, “Hopefully he stops thinking we’re a race of killers.”

“No, that’s krogan,” Shepard deadpans. “But thank you, Tali. That’s really not what I came down to discuss, but I appreciate it.” She breathes in and settles back against the corner of the railing. “We’re going to be putting in at Omega in a couple days. We’re going to be installing a Thanix cannon. Do you have any ideas for what we can install to make things go a little easier if we come up against more Collectors?”

Tali just stares for a minute. “Shepard! What kind of question is that? You might as well ask a krogan if he wants to fight! Of course I have ideas. Lots of ideas!” She pauses. “Not _all_ of them are feasible, but they’re ideas. I don’t suppose you have an opinion on installing a highly experimental version of an eezo core that might triple FTL travel speed?”

Nora squints at her. “…highly experimental as in ‘untested’ or highly experimental as in ‘we’re probably going to die’?”

Tali fidgets. “Well, it’s not _certain_ death…”

  
\- - -

  
A deck above, Kasumi watches Zaeed sneak into her quarters and make off with her finest scotch. “And that’s another on his tab,” she mutters, opening a program on her omnitool to add it. Then she goes back to her datapad.

Perched in the maintenance shafts is a wonderful spot to be. The bottoms are all clear, but nobody ever thinks to look up. _Perfect._ Twenty minutes later, she finally cracks the encryption on the files Nora asked for. She’s glad nobody can see her. Showing this much shock is unprofessional.

“Shepard and Ashley’s resurrections were both ordered by the Illusive Man… unsurprising... Ashley has a dormant loyalty program, still not entirely surprising…” she mutters, flicking through the information. “Project Lazarus, headed by Maric Wilson and — **shit.”** She rubs her eyes. It doesn’t change. Another rub. She refreshes the data, just in case. “Miranda Lawson.”

Kasumi leans on her hand and just stares at the screen for a minute, elbow propped on her knee. “Well, damn.”

  
\- - -

  
For once, Ashley’s not in the shuttle bay. Instead, she’s taken over portside obs. Samara left, very quietly, when Ashley told her what she wanted to do.

She dials the number. It’s so familiar, she could have done it in her sleep. “Please don’t let her have changed it,” she whispers, almost a prayer. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Ugh, Lynn, stop calling me from random people’s omnitools!” explodes from the speaker. “It stopped — oh. You’re… not Lynn… Ash?” Her sister’s face, as square and beautiful and cross as ever, softens first. Then it hardens into anger. “No. My sister is dead. Whoever you are, this is not a funny prank!” Even through the bad quality of the call, Ashley can see the tremble in Sarah’s lip and tell she’s about to cry.

“No, Sarah. I’m — it’s me. Ash. It’s not a prank.” She swallows and looks away. “I don’t have —”

“Bullshit! My sister loved me! If she was alive, she would have called me a year ago, or a year before that!” Sarah half-sobs. “I don’t even know why I haven’t hung up yet.” Her hand moves to hover over the 'end call'. She doesn't press it, though.

“Because it’s —” Ashley feels tears come to her good eye and closes them both. “It’s me, Sarah. I would have called if I could. I don’t I — I wish I could say it was an undercover mission. But I don’t know what happened.”

“If you’re really her, really Ash, tell me her favorite poem. Nobody knows that,” Sarah challenges, tears dripping steadily now.

Ashley almost laughs. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll recite it.” She takes a breath, steadies herself, and lets her voice drop into the low tones she’s always used to recite poems.

_“The sad and solemn night,_   
_Has yet her multitude of cheerful fires,_   
_The glorious host of light,_   
_Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;_   
_All through her silent watches, gliding slow,_   
_Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go._

_Day, too, hath many a star_   
_To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they:_   
_Through the blue fields afar,_   
_Unseen, they follow in his flaming way:_   
_Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim,_   
_Tells what a radiant troop —”_

“Lord Jesus God in heaven,” Sarah whispers. “It — Ash? You…” She breathes out, shaky and full of emotion, and whimpers, “You recite it just right. Like she always did. You even… **_Ash…”_**

She can’t help crying. Emotion hasn’t ever been one of her failings. But tears pour from her one capable eye. “I missed you, Sarah.”

  
\- - -

  
“Still cooling our jets in the Rosetta Nebula,” Joker’s voice comes over the comm system. Jacob nearly stumbles over his own feet he stands so fast.

Storming up the CIC, he asks, “Why the hell are we here?”

“Jeez, Jake, hostile much?” Joker asks, spinning to face him. “We had some geth ships on our tail leaving the Far Rim. I took us to Pylos and they still had us, so I brought us here. Rosetta’s out of the way. They’ll go looking for us near Omega and get shot down. Literally. Heh.”

“Huh. I’m not sure what we were doing with all that time, but alright,” Jacob mutters, spinning and leaving. “EDI! Can you tell me where the Commander is?” he asks the ceiling as he waits at the elevator.

“Commander Shepard is currently in the cargo bay, arm-wrestling Grunt. I believe she may win. Grunt has seemed very distracted,” the AI tells him.

Down he goes. Shepard’s just leaving the cargo bay when he gets there. He greets her with a salute and immediately says, “Commander! I have a favor to ask!”

Nora narrows her eyes at him. “Is this about getting in someone’s pants? ‘Cause I’m a shit wingman. Ask Garrus.”

“Ask — no!” he sputters. “I need some leave, Commander. We’re in the Rosetta Nebula right now, which is… where I need to go. Either drop me off at a spaceport here, and I’ll find a ride, or take me to Eclipse and I’ll hire one.”

She crosses her arms and steps closer. “No. You don’t get to gallop off through space without even a good explanation. Either you give me one, or you get no leave.”

“I promise it’s nothing that will endanger the mission, Commander —” he starts.

“Taylor! Explanation! Now!” she barks, taking another step closer. It might be his mind, but he swears he can see biotic blue flicker over her skin. And it’s definitely not his mind making him feel like someone a foot shorter is towering over him.

“It’s… a personal matter, ma’am,” he offers. Her gaze remains flat and utterly unimpressed. “I… the Hugo Gernsback —”

“Last seen in 2175, when it was sent on a survey mission. Nobody knows what happened. It’s assumed it fell into some kind of intergalactic Bermudan triangle,” Shepard rattles off. His jaw drops. “What? I originally intended to be a diplomat or a pilot, not a soldier. Disappearing ships are important to both of those,” she tells his astonished look.

“My father was on it. And there’s… Alliance command finally found a distress signal from it. Someone passed it to me through Cerberus channels. I need to see what happened,” he murmurs, eyes on the ground. “May I please have leave?”

“Chin up, Jacob. We’ll be there in less than a day,” she orders him, and opens a comm line to Joker. “Favor me, Jeff. Jacob’s going to send you some coordinates. Chaffeur us, please sir?”

“It depends on the pay, madame,” Joker responds. “And yeah, sure, but Cailin’s doing any FTL. My legs are killing me.”

“Don’t they always do that?” Shepard snipes before shutting the line off. “I’ll go shipside with you. Unless you have preferences otherwise, we’ll probably take Garrus and Ashley. Possibly Garrus and Grunt. Grunt’s a little restless right now.”

“Commander, you don’t have to do this —” he starts as she strides past him. When she reaches the elevator, she taps the call button and turns to him.

“I don’t have to, no. But it’s not far out of our way. And it was an Alliance ship. I could use a little goodwill from the Alliance for after this mess is… unmessed.” And then she smiles at him, soft and genuine. “Besides, I’d want to know what happened to my father. I do. I’m not about to rob someone else of that.”

She enters the elevator, leaving him behind. Seconds later, his omnitool pings.

 _hey u did u tell nor we have geth on r tail_  
 _that's not cool man_  
 _I had it handled_  
 _we dont need 2 divert_  
 _stop stressing out my capn plz_  
  
He rolls his eyes at Joker’s horrid message streams and replies, _Didn’t say a thing about geth. The divert is for something I picked up through Cerberus channels that might get her some Alliance bonus points._

_o ok but dont go telling cmdr shit like geth on r tail ok that’s not fly_   
_if u undermine me trying not to make nora stress I will tell evry bartender on evry planet u never pay ur tab and u will never have drinks anywhere again_   
_and also I’ll tell grunt u insulted his battlemaster_

Another eyeroll. _Calm down, Joker._

_Nevr_   
_Cailin takin over soon, coords????_

He sends the pilot his coordinates and takes the elevator back to where the guns are.

He doesn’t even know what he’s going to need for this. Emotional stability, probably.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus tries really, really hard not to watch Shepard as they investigate the ruins of the Gernsback. Once they figured out the air was breathable, her helmet got tossed in the shuttle without remorse. Now she’s poring over the ship, filching datapads, credit chits, old pre-heatsink guns — anything not bolted to the floor. _Well_ , he amends, watching her pick up a cabinet to retrieve a terminal’s hard drive, _that’s not as much of a restriction as it used to be._ But it's wonderful to see her excited.

“It looks like everyone was alive when they crashed, for the most part,” Jacob murmurs, coming up behind him. “Damn, Commander. Didn’t take you for a graverobber or a klepto.”

“I’m not a klepto!” she protests, turning her face towards them. “Do you realize how fascinating this all is? To see how much technology has advanced since this ship was built and launched? It looks like there were mech prototypes stored on this ship, for use in case of illness among the fighting members of the crew. Those prototypes are valuable links in the evolution of mechanical soldiers! And there’s all sorts of other stuff! There’s an entire _crate_ of Avengers over there!”

Garrus perks up at that. “Avengers? The good ones?”

“Yes! With no heatsinks! I **love** those guns!” She wrinkles her nose. “Shame they’re rusty. But I have a quarian, a credit chit, and sandpaper. Will, meet way.”

Grunt snorts. “I didn’t realize humans could get as excited about guns as krogan.”

Nora just blinks at him. “You spend half your time in the shuttle bay with Ashley. How did you not know?”

“She’s practically krogan already,” he rumbles. “She doesn’t count.”

Garrus has to hide his laugh. “Don’t tell her that if you value your quad,” he drawls. “Only a krogan woman would appreciate you saying that to her. Turians, salarians, asari, _especially_ humans — bad idea.”

“ANYWAY,” Jacob calls out. “Let’s see if we can find any sign of what happened to the survivors.”

They’ve barely advanced from the Gernsback’s position when a human woman comes shrieking around a corner. “The hunters! The hunters!” she squeals. (It kind of hurts his ears.)

Nora stops the woman and speaks to her, voice soft and kind. Garrus scans the landscape, eying the emptied crates and — shit. There’s no red dot, but the gleam of a scope through bushes — “Nora! Get down!” he barks, tackling both her and the strange woman.

Barely in time, too. The bullet flashes by, almost chipping his armor. He’s up almost instantly. Shepard follows him, bouncing to her feet, as the other woman stays down. “Are you kidding me?” she growls. Biotic energy almost explodes from her, rippling across the ground in a shockwave. The singularity that follows **should** have been impossible. He has her amp’s cooldown times memorized. And it’s not Jacob’s biotics, either —

 **“RAAAUUUUGH!”** Grunt roars, charging past them both.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt’s young. He’s not dumb. He can smell the stink of a human man, the _same_ human man, on every female in this camp. “Didn’t realize humans wanted to be like krogan,” he grumbles.

Shepard turns toward him, eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see, Shepard. You’ll see,” he replies cryptically. Minutes later, more of those hunters come from nowhere. It’s a bad fight. They’re out of their minds, barely able to remain coherent. But a fight’s a fight.

Garrus taps Shepard on the shoulder as they get ready to leave the female camp behind. “Shepard. Were all those prototype mechs still in their crates?” he questions.

“No. It looks like they’d either been activated or rusted out the crates.” She cranes her neck up to look at him. “Why?”

“If…” Garrus clears his throat, glances at Jacob, and lowers his voice. Grunt can still hear it, but the human’s far enough away inspecting data logs that it should be safe. “If Jacob’s father is doing all this… well, mechs would make handy guards.”

Cursing, some of it translated and some not, comes from Shepard. “Damn it!” Then he hears the tell-tale click in his ear. She’s opening a link to the Normandy and shuttle. “Cailin. Bring Tali down. Chakwas and Mordin, too. There’s prototype mechs, and people in dire need of medical treatment, down here. We should be able to handle the mechs. But they might not respond to the same override frequencies we’re used to.”

While the shuttle takes off, they putter around the camp, handing out what field rations they have. Grunt surrenders his unwillingly. But he’s not heartless. His portion of varren-flavored vat meat and mashed Tuchankan tubers feeds four of the women. Grunt knows what humans should look like. The women tearing into his portion are… terrifyingly thin. Bones poke from their faces, their arms, their elbows — there’s so little fat on them he wonders how they’re still living.

And they jabber to each other while they eat. Some of it’s translatable. Some of it doesn’t come through. He’s not sure if it’s a language his translator doesn’t have, or just jibberish. Judging by the hard look on the commander’s face, it’s some of both.

Taylor’s reading data log after log, throwing them aside when he’s done. “Damn it. Damn it _. Damn it!_ ” he shouts. Half the women keen in fear and scamper farther away.

 _Like prey afraid of a predator,_ Grunt thinks. _Ugh. No krogan could live like this, with his woman — women — in perpetual fear._ So he marches over to the human, in time with Shepard.

“Stay calm, Jacob. They’re associating you with your father,” she hisses. “They probably already have severe PTSD. Don’t make it worse.”

He has no idea what the jumble of human letters in the middle of her statement means, but he has something to say, too. “They’ve been prey for years, Taylor,” he rumbles. “Show them human men are something they don’t have to fear.”

“I… yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” he mutters, dropping his datapad and rising to his feet. He approaches one of the woman.

She backs away, whimpering. _“S’il vous plaît, non,_ ” comes from her mouth. “ _Non, non, non!”_

“I’m not him,” Taylor mutters, kneeling. “Here.” He reaches into his utility belt and removes his ration pack, sliding it across the ground to her. She looks from the silver packet to him, back and forth, back and forth.

 _“Est poison? Plus?”_ Tears — pitiful things — well in her eyes. _“J'étais bon! Non!”_

Taylor stares at her for a second before turning around and locking eyes with Shepard. The commander calls, voice still soft, “It’s French. She’s saying, 'It is poison? More? I was good! No!’”

The dark man’s face falls as he turns back to the woman. “Non… non est… poison?” The woman recoils further and scoots back. “I — shit.” He raises one hand to his face and scrubs at his eyes. “You can trust me. I swear.” Quiet, the itchy kind, descends. And then, in a flurry of movement, Jacob pulls his pistol from his holster.

“ _Non, non, nonnnn_!” the woman shrieks… and he slides the pistol across the ground to her. It taps her foot mid-shriek. She stops. Glancing down, she looks from the gun, to the packet, to Jacob… and snatches the pistol. “ _Vous et mort, danse!_ ” she snarls. Her motions, jerky and unsure, suddenly turn fluid as she cocks the gun and aims it. He doesn’t even move, staring down the barrel of the gun. Again, the quiet, but it’s not as itchy this time. Just tense. He shuffles a little closer, on his knees.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs as he shuffles. The gun wobbles. He shuffles closer, and closer. Beside him, Grunt hears Shepard draw a breath. Glancing over, he sees the purple flash of her biotics dance across her skin. When he looks back at Jacob, the man shimmers in the light. And he’s close enough now — the muzzle of the gun rests between his eyebrows.

Tense energy suffuses him. He’s ready for a fight. He wants a fight. But these creatures, damaged and broken so badly? This wouldn’t be a fight. He’d have a hard time calling it mercy. Suddenly, the woman breaks into a babble of the strange human language, so oddly musical despite her cracked voice. The words don’t sit still long enough for them to register, let alone translate.

Shepard translates instead. “She’s… 'You are him, but not him. He would never hand me a gun, never hand me food without the colors, the colors, the colors! I could never see another color for as long as I live and it would make me happy! Why is your face so? Why must you be here?'”

Taylor doesn’t move, gun still pressed to his forehead. “Tell her… tell her I’m sorry.”

Shepard murmurs, her voice even more oddly musical. It’s fast, whispering by his ear, but he catches, _“Je s’excuse, je veut aider,_ ” before it speeds up too much.

 _“Vengeance… et non,”_ she whispers. Her fingers loosen. The gun drops. _“S'il vous plaît, être gentil.”_

“Revenge, but no. Please, be gentle,” Shepard translates, stepping forward and resting her hand on Jacob’s shoulder. The language again, like an odd waterfall.

Five minutes later, the woman sits on a crate, eating Jacob’s ration timidly. It’s just in time for the quarian to come through, humming a merry tune. “You called, Shepard?” she asks, cradling a shotgun.

“I did,” Nora says, turning from the woman. “Let’s go. Grunt, Jacob… where’s Garrus?”

“Heh heh heh,” Grunt chortles. “Someone still has First Contact War aggression.” He points a thumb over his shoulder. An older woman, hair nearly entirely grey, has Garrus backed into a corner, yelling at him.

“…seriously?” Shepard sighs. “I can’t take anyone anywhere without starting fights.”

  
\- - -

  
Mechs pop and fizzle as they move through the defenses. The entire time, Nora hears Jacob’s father prattle on. The more he prattles, the angrier she gets.

Only Tali’s cheerful attitude saves her from being entirely wild. “Oh! A protoype YMIR? Built solely with human technology? This is wonderful!” she hears the quarian exclaim. “Overriding defenses… oof, these are _weak._ And overloading systems… goodbye, shields!”

Like a skipping record, she hears Garrus over the comms with a low, “Scoped and dropped! Thank you, Tali!”

“You’re welcome, Garrus!” she fires back. “Take care of it a little faster next time? Chatika almost had to come out. You’re _supposed_ to be good at this.”

“I **am** good at this. Not my fault you’re slow at taking out shields,” he drawls, popping a mech’s head from his vantage point.

“Excuse me? I am a quarian engineer! I am not slow! I’d like to see you take out shields that fast, _Archangel!”_ Tali shouts. “Besides, I — **keelah!”** The alarm in Tali’s voice has Nora spinning and charging across the battlefield.

**_Boom!_ **

She flies over the crate Tali was behind to find her fighting off a crazed human. The quarian’s shotgun took off one arm — probably the thunderous report she just heard — but he’s still fighting. “Off!” Nora snarls. She doesn’t even have to think it before her biotics pick the man up and hurl him across the clearing. “Are you okay, Tali?”

“I’m fine. Shaken, but fine. I forgot how easy it is to get distracted by battlefield banter.” She sniffs and checks her suit for ruptures. “Hear that, Garrus? Stop distracting me!”

“You distracted yourself, Tali.” His voice is warm, but still professional, when he adds, “Glad you’re okay. Shepard, field’s clear. Taylor should be just ahead.”

Her head swivels toward the path and she can’t help snarling. “Jacob. With me,” she spits over the comm.

“Of course,” he growls back. It’s the most dangerous she’s ever heard him sound. Strangely, hearing his anger calms her own and turns it into the icy anger of command.

They approach, ready for more mechs, but none pop out. When they mount the ramp, Ronald Taylor turns toward them, grin in place. “You’re here! I knew a real squad would blow through just fine. Sorry if —”

“Acting Captain, Ronald Taylor?” she barks. It’s the first thing she’s said to him. Over the comms, she let Garrus handle the replies. “Report. Immediately. I’d like an explain for what’s happened to your crew, as well as the lapse in the power of the distress beacon.”

Taken aback, he fumbles for words. She walks past him, but watches from the corner of her eye. Jacob steps forward, hand on his pistol, and growls, “Yes, what about your crew?”

“Total loss. The toxic food turned them wild. They’ve propped me up here…” She listens, but it all comes through as _bullshit bullshit bullshit._

As soon as he’s done, she turns and snarls at him, “The toxic food? The toxic food you made them eat?” She sniffs. “I expect better lies.”

Ronald bristles. “It’s the truth! Damn it, I don’t even know why I’m reporting to you. You might not even be Alliance! Hell, I’m sure you’re not!” He gestures at Garrus, Tali, and Grunt, holding the door. “Since when are there aliens in the Alliance?”

“Since I’m a Spectre, and I need alien skills,” she says. Her voice radiates icy chill. “Commander Nora Shepard, N7, in charge of the SSV Normandy. Prior to taking command of the Normandy, I served Captain Anderson. I also did special missions for the admirals, on requests. I was made the first human Spectre in 2183. Without even my Spectre rank, I still outrank you. Report. No more lies, or I’ll have you in charges of insubordination as well as falsification.” And then, she can’t help her smile. “I believe you’re already familiar with my subordinate here. He’s a good soldier. Isn’t that right, Mr. Taylor?”

“Taylor — I — what?” From there, it degenerates. He starts spewing **complete** shit about the realities of command. Nora can’t help herself.

“Yeah, the realities of command change you. Just like having your entire unit massacred changes you. Just like the Skyllian Blitz changed Captain M’kkarie.” She steps closer. Thankfully, he’s not as tall as his son. “I had to make a decision for the good of the galaxy. My choice was between an entire squad of salarians and a good soldier, or the best woman I’ve ever met in the Alliance. I made that decision, and I didn’t whinge about the realities of command after. But you wouldn’t know a thing about the real realities of command. You’ve been holed up in some sick fantasy while the rest of the galaxy bled.”

Ronald rambles on, and on. Halfway through his ramble, Garrus clicks into her earpiece with a low, “Nora…” She turns toward him and sees why. A dozen hunters hide around the edges of the camp. The three aliens all have their guns out, but the hunters are still there. She walks across the little wooden deck again, trying to calm herself… and scuffs her boot on a bloodstain. A large bloodstain.

Her throat tightens. _Scum._ She listens to Jacob lambasting his father, asking for answers. None of them are satisfactory. Finally, she puts an end to it. “We’ll have ships here soon. We can reverse some of the damage.”

“He’s not worth the fuel to pull him out. He’s not even worth the damn air he’s breathing,” Jacob snarls, pulling his pistol. This time, he levels it instead of dropping it. “He’s goddamn lucky I’m not sure he’s worth pulling the trigger.”

“He’s not. But I’m not sure he’s worth the credits and time it’d take to judge him.” Nora steps in front of Jacob and assesses Ronald. “There’s no way to make you feel remorse for what you’ve done, I think. But…” She narrows her eyes. “I wonder.”

“Shepard!” Tali hisses in her ear. “These guys are looking a little crazy!”

“I know. Drive them back, but don’t kill them if you can,” she says into her comm. “Should be knockout gas settings on your grenades.” And then, to the Normandy, “Connect me to Samara, please.”

Seconds later, the asari’s smooth voice comes over the line. “Shepard. It is a pleasure. May I be of service?”

“I understand what I’m about to ask may go against you believe, Samara, and you have every right to refuse it,” she murmurs, walking away. “But… I think it would be just.” She shares her idea. It doesn’t take long.

“I see. I cannot say it is entirely advisable. But it is just.” Silence, over the comm line. “I will come shortly. EDI, please have the shuttle return.”

The line cuts out. Nora returns to Jacob and Ronald, both staring each other down. “You’re going to see justice, Ronald, at the hands of the Alliance. But first, you’re going to meet a justicar.”

  
\- - -

  
When the hunters are gone — rather, asleep — Tali and the others return to Shepard’s side. Together, they cuff the older man and haul him to just outside the camp. Mordin and Chakwas are going from person to person. Jacob and Shepard guard Taylor. Grunt and Garrus… stand off awkwardly to one side. After she’s done giggling, she goes up to Mordin and asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Ah, yes. Miss Zorah. Please, would appreciate help. These are…” He exhales. “Doesn’t matter. Will begin the process of flushing alien contaminants out of the body. Administer, if you will. Those with the booster have blue bandaids.” He taps his arm. “Cannot ask Jacob for help. Garrus — negative connotations. Grunt — too strange. Commander busy.”

She takes the handful of needles and sets about boosting those who still need it. It works remarkably fast. By the time she applies her last, she can see the fog clearing just slightly from the minds of those who received it first.

Samara arrives minutes later. Before any of the Normandy’s crew can approach her, four of the women do. She smiles at them, soothing and soft. All disperse quickly, save one. She lingers, touching Samara’s cheek. _“Örökkévalóság?”_ she asks.

Samara inhales. “Commander,” she calls across camp. “Come here.” Garrus takes her place watching Taylor and Nora practically flies across camp. They start speaking in low voices. And, well, Tali’s curious. So she fires up her remote listening program.

“…most likely, they left behind an asari mate. Perhaps it was a mere dalliance. But few are so lucky.” Samara sighs and Tali can see her shake her head.

“Do you think she’ll object, then?” Nora asks.

“It is impossible to know for certain. She does not have her mind, it is clear. But… I believe she will not object.” Samara’s hand curls on the shoulder of the remaining woman.

Nora sighs. “Samara, you don’t have to —”

“I wish to. This is a fitting justice. Death is often mercy. This is… I cannot conceive something more fitting.” With that, Samara leads away the woman.

After watching them walk off, Nora returns to where she was. Tali turns off her remote listening program and just watches the camp. (Master of body language, as most quarians are… she catches a few interesting things. There’s absolutely no reason for Garrus to angle his body towards Shepard like that. And he definitely doesn’t need to stand that close.)

  
\- - -

  
When Jacob boards the Normandy, his first stop is the men’s bathroom. He doesn’t stop vomiting until it hurts. Miranda and Nora are both sitting outside, waiting, when he leaves. Miranda starts talking, almost babbling. Nora just stands and hugs him. It’s a tight hug, not quite full of emotion, but full of good will. He doesn’t move for a minute. He almost can’t.

Miranda’s arms join Nora’s, wrapped around him. _This_ hug, he can feel the emotion in. Despite the fact they’re both so much shorter than him, he collapses into their arms. There’s tears. Not enough, but some.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi stares at the cameras, nonplussed. “I can’t just tell her. I can’t. That’s… no. We’re not that close. Ashley has that loyalty program. Garrus? Perhaps. Maybe the quarian. I’ll have to ask.”

 _But this can’t go on_ , she adds in her head. Nora’s on screen, hugging not one, but two Cerberus operatives. _Ugh._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem is "Hymn to the North Star" by William Cullen Bryant.
> 
> Örökkévalóság is supposed to be Hungarian for eternity. Most of the others are easy to figure out or translated in-story.


	9. Regrets and Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's because of their suicide mission looming. Maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers Samara's loyalty mission. Also, a lot of sex stuff. And also a lot of bad jokes. It's a giant, messy chapter. 
> 
> Let me know if my attempt at A Sexy Thing didn't work.

This time, when they stride onto Omega, Nora doesn’t revel in the dark atmosphere as much. She still pauses. She still closes her eyes and drinks in the energy of the place — but it’s not half what it was. Jacob watches her from behind, wary. He needs an opportunity to slip away. But she’s been more on guard since the Collector ship.

“Jacob, Garrus, Ash, and I are going to go pick up our engineers. Do me a favor and run to the market. We need…” she trails off. “I don’t know. There’s a list and I know literally nothing about ship bits.”

His omnitool dings a moment later. “On it, Commander,” he answers. She’s already walking off, towards Afterlife. _Guess operating on Omega, even temporarily, without letting Aria know **would** be a bad idea._ Five minutes later, he’s in a comm booth. This time, he sets powerful firewalls and throws up every bit of anti-listening tech he has.

“Taylor. You’ve been out of contact for a while. Anything interesting?” his contact purrs over the line.

“Lots, sir.” He clears his throat and begins his summary report. “We went on board an apparently dead Collector ship that turned out to be a trap. The Commander was ambushed. Symptoms lead me to believe she suffered some sort of stroke due to the Collector leader.”

His contact inhales so audibly it pops in his ear. “Is she still functional?” they demand.

“Yes, sir. It’s most likely due to the implants she received upon resurrection. Within a week, she was back on her feet, and back on the battlefield. There appears to be lingering issues with her nervous system, but I believe they’re working themselves out.” The silence makes him uneasy, so he continues. “We recruited Tali’zorah vas Neema from the Far Rim. I have a file detailing her mission and its apparent results. After that, we… had a pit stop in the Rosetta Nebula.”

“Yes, I saw the anonymous report about the remains of the Gernsback being found,” his contact murmurs. “Given the identity of the acting captain, I wondered if you had anything to do with it.” Something creaking, as if they’re leaning forward — not that he can see. “Tell me, what _did_ Shepard do? By the tone of the reports, he appeared to be without remorse. Yet, when I visited him…” they trail off.

“I’m not entirely sure, sir. The justicar we recruited came down to the planet and took him aside. When he came back… he was crying.” Jacob inhales. The memories he has of his father — big grins, the best presents — are entirely at odds with the man he met on that planet. It’s going to take a while to stop hurting.

“I see. Very interesting.” There’s silence over the comm line for a moment. “I believe there’s going to be some official Alliance contact with Shepard soon. I’ve heard a lot of rumblings. Stay alert. It may be benign. It may be an assassination.”

Jacob has to snort. “Sir, with all due respect, I feel bad for any assassin who comes near Shepard.”

“Oh?”

“Yessir. When she’s not on the Normandy, she constantly has Williams and Vakarian with her. They’re always on alert, and so loyal I don’t think you could pry the group apart with a bomb.” The dry chuckle on the other side of the line reminds him someone _did_ try to pry Ashley away with a bomb. So he hurries on. “Even without them around, her biotic ability’s increased since her resurrection. Trying to ambush the commander would be a bad, bad idea.”

“Noted, Taylor. This transmission’s getting long. Send me any data you have.” The call cuts out. He stands in the booth a little longer after sending the files, staring at his hands.

 _Maybe I should have said I’m in the ‘freakishly loyal’ camp of Shepard’s followers now, too. God knows she didn’t have to help with… any of that._ When he leaves the booth and starts to the market, he’s still contemplating how his life turned into this mess. Sure, he loves his job. But damn, is it wild.

  
\- - -

  
Halfway to their destination, Ashley spots an illegal gun merchant and veers sharply off course. It’s all shotguns, so Garrus and Nora hang back, waiting. It’s the perfect opportunity. “Garrus,” Nora murmurs. He turns, one browplate shifting quizzically. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure where I would have been injured, so yes,” he rumbles. She sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Pack the smartass away. It’s Omega. Are you okay?” she presses. He looks away. She takes a step closer. He shuffles his feet, sliding a little further from her, so she takes two more steps. Now she’s right in front of him, head leaning back since he’s tall as hell. “Garrus.”

“Nora,” he fires back. It’s clearly meant to be retaliatory, but it fails. She can hear the thrum of grief underneath his voice.

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m having Tali make good on that naked volus threat,” she growls. His mandibles flick out, just for an instant, and he sighs.

“It’s… it’s harder than I thought.” One taloned hand reaches up and covers his eyes, as if it makes the intimacy easier. “This way to the engineering district was one person’s favorite. There’s an asari food stall down the way they swore by.” He inhales, the sound ridged with pain. “I can smell it from here. I always knew when they’d been. They came back to base smelling like cheap food.”

Nora reaches out, letting one hand rest gently in the center of his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, still looking up. “I wish I’d come sooner. Then maybe I could have… changed something.”

His hand falls. Now, his expression indicates disbelief. “Shepard — what could you have done? It was Sidonis. There was nothing anyone but me could have done.” She shrugs, goes to speak, but his hand on her shoulder stops her. “I appreciate the thought. But you might have died again, if you’d been here. Then where would I be?”

She shrugs again and moves her hand to cover his. “I don’t know. But I’m still sorry.” He leans closer, mandibles flaring. She waits as he lingers over his choice of words…

“Hell yeah! Unmarked, specially manufactured Mattock! Come to mama!” Ashley crows, approaching them. “Look at this! Tali and Grunt are going to _die_ with jealousy.”

They separate, laughing at Ashley’s fervor over her gun. But Nora eyes Garrus as they move on. There was something strange in his eyes. She couldn’t read him at all, for once.

  
\- - -

  
When he stands closer to Nora, it doesn’t feel as bad. He doesn’t remember the way his team members smiled, the way they grumbled, and their cheers of joy over a victory. But guilt over not wanting to feel makes him step away. Breathing the Omega air, thick with sin and hopelessness, doesn’t hurt as much as breathing the memories do.

 _You deserve it,_ he tells himself with every inhale. _**You** trusted Sidonis. You. You. You._

_Failure._

Nora stumbles and almost falls when someone rams into her, without an apology, and keeps running. He catches her, helps her to her feet again — and promptly lets go of her small hand. He doesn’t deserve to forget.

  
\- - -

  
Samara’s waiting outside the airlock when they return to the Normandy. “Commander,” she greets Shepard. Ashley _has_ to grumble a little over her demeanor. Sure, she’s an asari, which means she had way too long to work on being calm, but it’s still not fair.

“Samara. Did you need something while we were on Omega? I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask. But I promise you’ll have shore leave!” Giving Nora two cups of coffee was a bad idea. Now she’s wide-eyed and jittery, practically bouncing. But it’s not a lot of places outside the Citadel — mess hall included — that you can find decent coffee.

“I would speak with you, if you have a moment,” Samara asks. Nora’s response is to cock her head and nod. “Might we… step away?” And so they do.

Ashley’s curious. It’s not always a good quality. So she focuses her cybernetic hearing and listens. It’s taken a while to get the hang of it, but now she can block things out unless she wants to most of the time. “…since you came onboard. Is everything okay?” Nora asks, concern in her voice.

“You remember, I am certain, my mission on Ilium.” Samara pauses. It sounds like hesitance. “I… have tracked the Ardat Yakshi. I believe she is here, on Omega.”

Nora steps closer, hand falling onto Samara’s arm. “Your daughter, you mean?”

“…yes. I fear I must for your aid, Commander. If she knows I seek her, there will be no finding her. She has taken enough promise from this galaxy.” Samara’s voice finally shows emotion. Even from far away, Ashley hears the heaviness, like lead in water.

Before Samara can get out more than a syllable, Nora interrupts. “Of course, Samara. You didn’t even have to ask. What do we need to do?”

“We might… better discuss this in private. It is a complicated plan. In short, I require somebody to draw the Ardat-Yakshi out of hiding. You are… someone I believe she would be drawn to.” Ashley inhales sharply. Judging by the way Garrus starts… it’s not quite a growl, but it’s vibrating his mandibles ferociously… he’s having the same thought she is.

_Nora’s going to be bait._

  
\- - -

  
Samara watches Nora move about her cabin. The place is large enough for a human ship. Disorganization seems to be the commander’s modus operandi, but that is hardly relevant. “There’s wine under the desk if you want something to relax,” Nora tells her, disappearing into the bathroom. When she comes out a scant moment later, her armor’s piled in her arms, replaced by a simple pair of black pants and a sleeveless shirt.

“I do not indulge. But the offer is appreciated,” Samara tells her. “Are you… prepared to hear this plan?”

“I think I divulged most of it from what you said. We need to find any evidence of your daughter, find her haunts, and I’ll be the bait. Is there much more to it?” Nora settles onto her bed, covers still rumpled, and sets her armor aside.

“No. It is a simple enough plan in words. In execution, less so. Morinth has always been drawn to a particular sort of person. You are an artist on the battlefield. You know death.” Nora snorts. Samara sighs at her own choice of words. “Darkness is hardly strange to you. If we can locate her haunts, I believe she will pounce with great speed.”

“And then?” Nora asks, drawing her legs beneath her. Samara has to wonder (again) if all human hips bend that way as Shepard settles into a peculiar position.

“Then, we… do what we must. Ideally, she will take you to a private place. I can confront her then and end this.” The idea doesn’t give her the pain in her heart it once did. If she had not been so weak once before, there would be others without missing children.

Nora leans forward, hand on the edge of the bed. “Samara. I have no doubt this is something you want to see through, but I can kill her. I’ve taken out a few powerful asari in my time. You don’t need to hurt yourself by killing your daughter.” Her voice sounds oddly respectful, and yet remains caring.

“I hurt myself long ago, when I swore myself to the code. I knew then what was necessary.” She exhales and tries to forget the face of Morinth’s last victim. “I was weak once, before. I could not do it then. I have gathered my strength. It is necessary, Commander.” Nora watches her for a moment. Silence seems comfortable, soft, like an old blanket, between them.

“Are you sure?” Shepard asks, voice still that odd mix of emotions. “I don’t have family. But I know it would be like to kill someone I cared for.”

“Thank you, but no,” Samara murmurs. Finally, she places her finger on what bothers her. “You have… I believe the Earthen term is an aged soul?”

Soft laughter. “An old soul is the saying. I’ve been told that before.” Pain, just an instant’s worth, touches her face. “My… last lover, Liara, was an asari. She told me my mind was a wonder.” Her laugh this time seems more bitter. “Don't know where she got it. I just understand people. Not enough to do much with it. Just enough to make things complicated.”

“Complications are part of life. When you live the life of an asari, they seem smaller in hindsight.” She tilts her head forward. “Have you been meditating?”

Nora’s wrinkled nose answers her. “I haven’t not been meditating. I don’t do well with… not thinking.” Her hand flies up. “Yes, I know, meditation is more than not thinking. You told me. It’s been…” She shrugs. “But we’re not up here to discuss that. Do you have any leads?”

“Not yet. I know she is here. It has been some time since she last killed. She will strike again soon.” Samara folds her hands together and studies them. “I have spent much time studying her habits. She cannot be hard to track here.”

  
Nora nods. “We’ll go see Aria…” A quick tap opens her omnitool. “Well, not now. I don’t fancy having her kill me because I interrupted her beauty sleep.” Samara has to suppress a smile at that. “If anyone on the station knows anything, it’ll be Aria. Something tells me she’d keep track on someone that dangerous.”

  
\- - -

  
Garrus exits the elevator, fidgeting. He left Ashley downstairs, writing in a datapad and swearing under her breath. In the last two hours, she’s received enough messages to make him tired of the _ding._

“I announced your arrival. The commander says come in.” EDI’s blue orb still startles him sometimes. This is one of those.

“Thanks,” he grumbles at the AI. But the door opens, so he goes ahead.

“Something wrong, Garrus?” Nora asks, spinning from where she’s sitting at her terminal. “Tell me none of those techs are going to blow up my Normandy.”

“I’m not sure which would be scarier if they did that, you or Joker,” he replies. “No. This is…” He hesitates. Dark bags under her eyes tell him she’s tired. But this is important. “Bait, Nora?”

She rolls her eyes. “I see you’ve heard what Samara asked. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He huffs and lets his mandibles flare. “It is. A legendary kind of asari criminal? One that can kill you by…” He shakes his head. “It’s dangerous.”

Again, the eye roll. This time she crosses her arms. “I’ll be fine, Garrus. I appreciate the thought. But I’ve dealt with sexual predators before. Humans have them, too.”

“You — what?” he growls. Immediately, her comment on Horizon comes to mind. A moment later, the Citadel and its perversions dance across his thoughts. People lurking in dark corners. Luring the kind and innocent. Taking the unaware. Drugging and selling them.

“…right. Forgot, hardly common knowledge,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead and leaning one elbow on her desk. She catches his gaze a second later. “Joined a gang when I was ten. Stayed with them for a while.” Her nostrils flare. “You’re aware of human sexual characteristics. My body developed those early. I was thirteen.” Another sigh. “His name was Iain. It started out simple. He just liked talking to me. Then he started following me around. Then he made advances… it would have been cute if he’d been my age. He was twenty-four.”

“And your… gang… allowed this?” he asks. In all but a few cultures, preying on children is not viewed well.

“Nobody said anything to the gang leader. I wasn’t well—liked. Iain did more runs, completed more jobs than I’d even been assigned.” She leans forward, her shoulders hunched. “Apparently I inherited my temper, though. He… took liberties. I came back to my stuff one day and all my clothes were gone.”

Garrus doesn’t want to imagine what the man had in mind. “What did he hope to accomplish with that?” he asks, subharmonics purring with protectiveness. After a cursory try at curbing the hum, he ignores it and lets it happen.

“Oh, he didn’t leave me nothing.” She pauses. Even tired eyed, Nora’s sense of drama wins out. “He left me outfits barely fit for an asari club dancer.” _Aaaand_ now his hackles are up. “Luckily, the leader of the gang was in our warehouse when I figured it out. I started yelling, called him out on his shit. He didn’t like that.” Her voice descends into a mockery of a human man. “She’s lying, boss. The hell’d I want with some goddamn kid? I’ll beat the shit out of you, you little —” The mockery ends with a male screech, and it’s followed by Nora’s laughter. “He tried to come at me. My biotics decided to show up right then.”

Even without any imagery to go on, it’s perfect. Nora’s small, even now. The idea of her sending some grotesque hulk flying —!

“Someone else backed me up, said I wasn’t lying. I got promoted and he got demoted.” Her smile, small at first, grows. “It’s a favorite memory. There were others who tried. But for the most part, they hit the road when they found out I was a biotic.” She rubs her temples with two fingers, eyes still on him. “So you don’t have to worry, Garrus. I can handle myself.”

“Too late,” he rumbles. “We need our commander —”

“And your commander has a skewed sense of justice.” She stands. It’s slow, which worries him. And her hand stays on the desk, as if to support her. “Can you honestly tell me you’re okay with letting this Ardat Yakshi run wild?”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. He looks away first. “…no,” he admits. “But Kasumi, or Miranda —”

“I’m not putting someone else in danger’s way. I’m perfecty capable!” Nora frowns at him and shakes her head. Immediately, she winces and her free hand flies to her temple.

 _Relapse_! his brain shouts. He’s in front of her in two steps, ready to catch — but she doesn’t fall. “Sit down,” he growls, letting his voice turn threatening.

Despite the eyeroll, she does. “Don’t call Chakwas, please,” she sighs. “It’s not anything important.”

“It could be a return of whatever happened on the Collector ship,” he argues, turning. “EDI —”

“EDI, ignore him for now,” Nora orders, voice sharp before it softens. “It’s really nothing. Coffee’s… one of humanity’s most basic stims. I had too much, and now I’m crashing. Gave me one hell of a headache.” He ponders it for a second.

“Alright.” He turns back toward her. “Why not sleep it off?”

“Too much to do. Besides, even if I was going to, I’m not allowed to take medication and go straight to sleep.” Her jaw sets and eyes narrow. “My metabolism is too high for that. I have to wait until the effects start kicking in, in case I need a stronger dose. Karin’s already had to double the strength of my normal headache medication.” She leans on the palm of her hand, fingers gently massaging one side of her temple.

“Cerberus?” he asks. Her flat-eyed look makes him chuckle. “Is it focused in your temples?”

“Right temple. Left back.” She closes her eyes. “Really, don’t worry. It’s my own fault. There’s a reason Gardner stopped letting me near the coffeepot. I’m used to suffering the consequences of my actions.”

“You shouldn’t always have to,” he murmurs. He doesn’t realize he’s reaching out to touch her temple until his hand’s almost there. Appalled, he yanks it back. “I, uh. Anyway. We can deal with this… thing… the old-fashioned way.”

“Which is?” she asks, tilting her face toward him but leaving her eyes closed.

 _…coming down must really be giving her a headache,_ he thinks. “Bullets. From far, far away,” he states as firmly as possible. She snorts.

“Nope. You’re not winning, Garrus. Now unless you’re willing to either be a turian space heater or do my work for me so I can sleep, shoo.” She follows her words by rustling around in her desk and removing a small heat pack. It gets activated and slapped directly on the back of her neck.

Eyes on the heat pack, he stumbles over his words. “Right. Uh, can we… I…” He’s trying very hard not to think about replacing the heat pack with his hands. It’s very much not working. “I’ll send you a message,” he blurts and flees.   
  
In the elevator, he remonstrates, _Get yourself together, Vakarian! What are you even thinking? Human! Human! H U M A N!_

  
_\- - -_

  
Nora almost collapses into her chair when Garrus leaves. Her head’s pounding. This always happens, and she always regrets it. But somehow, it keeps happening. “At least he’s not high-pitched,” she mumbles, spinning her chair and resting her head on the desk. At first, she just plops face-down. Her nose protests, so she rolls her head onto its side despite the light.

Whenever she has a headache, whenever she’s overtired, her depression’s always been worse. Ever since coming back, much of it’s been thoughts about Adelio. This time, they’re absent, replaced by the more familiar thoughts.

 _Of course you let yourself get this way. Idiot. Will you ever learn?_ she sneers at herself. _What kind of use are you, curled up because of a little headache?_

Kaidan flickers across her mind. _That’s not fair,_ she tells herself. _Kaidan was always useful, even when his migraines were bad._

 _And yet you’re up here, wallowing,_ her mind spits back. It’s more like a fight than she wants to admit to anyone outside her head. Admitting it makes her sound insane.

“EDI?” she sighs, trying and failing to push the deprecatory thoughts away.

“Yes, Commander?”

“Play something nice. Soft, though. Nothing too loud. And if you could dim the lights?” The music helps. And if it was one of Liara’s favorite songs… At least nobody’s present. Letting someone see her leak tears like this — slow, like a dripping faucet, sliding over the bridge of her nose to land on the desk.

No, being publicly vulnerable won’t do.

  
\- - -

  
Thane goes with Nora the next day, along with Miranda, when they go to speak with Aria. Samara lingers in the docking bay. Omega hardly has a lack of situations requiring justice. It’s better that way.

“Shepard,” Aria purrs when they mount the stairs. “Thane. Cerberus.” Thane can feel Miranda bristling, but she doesn’t say a word. “What do I owe the unique pleasure of this visit?”

Nora sits down, surprisingly close to Aria. Thane’s fingers don’t twitch toward his gun. _Discipline in everything. Don’t give yourself away._ But he watches Aria closely. “Apparently asari aren’t as wonderful as they seem,” Nora hums, leaning back against the leather and spreading her arms out. “Ardat Yakshi. I think your fiefdom attracted one.”

Aria snorts. “That explains that death, then. I wondered.” She pauses, signs something to her bodyguard, and continues. “Let me guess. You’re here to take her into custody and return her to the monastery?”

“No.” Nora barely hesitates. It’s a millisecond. But he is good at this. “We’re here with a justicar to remove the threat she poses.”

Aria sits bolt upright. “A _justicar_? By the goddess’s fucking eezo-covered tits, why would you bring a justicar here?” she demands, springing from the couch. “This is _Omega._ You know how we operate.” She paces, snarling for a moment, before turning on Shepard. Many would not have caught it. But the asari telegraphs her actions before they happen.

 _She will attempt to pin Shepard against the back of the couch, before pinning her with biotics, he thinks._ And she does, rocketing towards Nora. Her forearm nearly catches Shepard under the chin. Instead, it —

stops, along with the momentum her flung body brought. Purple-blue biotic fields pulse over the asari’s body. “Are you done?” Nora purrs up into Aria’s face. Aria snarls and tries to move. She remains stuck to the couch, legs on either side of Nora’s thighs. “Yes, I brought a justicar. But she’s sworn herself to my service. She won’t do anything I don’t let her.”

“Bullshit,” Aria hisses. “No justicar has sworn themselves to anything other than the Code in centuries.” Complete shock flickers over Shepard’s face, but it’s gone quickly.

“Congratulations, you get to see history.” Nora’s smile matches the way she drawls. “If you’d mind handing over any information on the Yakshi, we’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Maybe I can even give you a present?”

Aria doesn’t reply instantly. Instead, she gives up trying to break free of Nora’s biotics, enough for Nora to relax the hold slightly. Then she plants her arms on either side of Shepard’s head. Thane catches Miranda shifting, her fingers flexing and tapping her pistol. Nora doesn’t even look concerned. “Shepard,” Aria snarls after staring the commander down. “If you lived on Omega, I’d have had you taken care of long ago.”

“Good thing I don’t, then.” Still unruffled. She actually reaches up and pats Aria’s arm, in a mockery of a consoling gesture.

Another hiss from Aria. “You’ll have your information.” Shepard’s biotics relax farther, and Aria pulls away. “Who the hell raised you? A damn krogan? You’ve got a quad like one.” When the asari sits down, it’s farther from Shepard than she was.

Nora snorts. “My balls are on my chest, thanks. If I had a quad, the galaxy couldn’t handle me.” And Thane almost jumps when Aria actually laughs.

“Shame you’re not a little less… charitably inclined,” Aria purrs, back to her usual cool demeanor. “We could _run_ the galaxy.”

“Or, if all else failed, our children could,” Shepard replies, standing slowly. “Wouldn’t you feel bad for anyone who ran up against them?” Another snort from Aria.

“Out of my sight, Shepard, before I decide your balls are more dangerous than amusing.” Shepard doesn’t quite obey, but she doesn’t linger. Thane follows, terribly amused. But at the same time, it’s very hard not to fall into memories of Irikah. Only the nearby _ding_ of Nora’s omnitool rescues him from one of his favorite memories. “We’ve got a direction.” She opens a line to Samara over comms, and then they move towards one of the residential districts.

Fortunately, distractions provide themselves in Omega. On the way there, he has to ward off a dozen people trying to get close enough to hit on Miranda. One tries to get close to Shepard. It doesn’t work. When she’s distracted, not actively engaged in anything, her face takes on the emotion of a stone wall and the approachability of wild varren. He doesn’t even have to shoo that one away.

Catching a cab means they get to the residential district in question before Samara. For Omega, it’s a decent neighborhood. Only a half-dozen vagrants on the main street. Three drug dealers, all classy enough to at least make it not entirely obvious. There’s a program embedded in one building’s computer system that reaches out and plays an ad on his omnitool. To the amusement of everyone present, it’s a vorcha brothel.

“Today on ‘things I probably shouldn’t kinkshame’,” Nora mutters. He hears, and judging by her startled snort, Miranda does too. “Anyway! This is the building Aria said the victim lived in. Murder scene’s off limits, by virtue of it being a popular dumping ground for bodies.”

“That is… rather disconcerting,” Miranda chimes in. “A place popular enough that people are barred, simply because so many die on Omega?”

“Death is a part of life,” he rumbles. “Some of them did not deserve their deaths, no doubt. But Omega hardly breeds innocents.” Her offended sniff amuses him, but they lapse into silence.

Lounging outside the building, waiting for Samara, proves a bad idea. Mere moments later, a drell couple passes by. Had it not been for the light reflecting off the young woman’s scales, he would have been fine. He is not.

“ _Thane!” she laughs, backing away and hopping on the railing. “I’m not kissing you while I’m working!” It is not, technically, work. She brought some of her files away from the lab. They are relatively unimportant, but she compartmentalizes._

_“Who said it would end with a kiss?” he asks, standing from where he leans on the table. Balconies are hardly new to him. And in this light — she is always beautiful. Always. But the lowering light of the Citadel’s day cycle makes her look a sunset goddess, perched on the edge of their balcony with a datapad._

_She rolls her eyes and smiles at him. “I have things to do, my love. Save your amorous feelings for later.” He inhales._

_“There is no shortage of those. But I will allow myself to be sated with a simple kiss,” he rumbles, moving closer. Irikah sighs and shakes her head, but her smile at him radiates emotion._

_“Very well,” she murmurs as he closes in. She turns her face up, and her lips are better than the finest wine. Scales soft, iridescent, under his hands as he lets his hands rest on her hips to pull her closer. Her hand on his jaw, drawing him down._

“…Thane? Thane, come out,” Shepard’s gentle voice breaks into his memory. “We’ve got investigating to do.” He shakes his head, tries to shake the memory off. Nora’s face twisting into a wicked grin registers. “Let’s split up, gang!”

Miranda blinks. Then she snorts and rolls her eyes before reaching over to gently slap the back of Shepard’s head. “Inappropriate, Commander,” she chides. But she’s smiling. “How shall we do this?”

“You and Thane check out the neighborhood, ask if anyone’s seen…” Nora pauses.

“Morinth is tall, dark, and draws you in like a beautiful black hole,” Samara murmurs. “Anyone who saw her would certainly remember.” He nods and turns to Miranda.

“Shall we?”

  
\- - -

  
After checking the directions, they take the elevator to the floor where the victim lived. It’s a plain floor — four apartments to be found. Beyond that, the directions have no more. So Shepard smooths her hair and knocks on the closest door. “Hello! I apologize for bothering you, but —”

 _Slam._ Were the situation less dire, Samara might laugh at the look on Nora’s face. “Omega does not seem a place for politeness.”

“Yeah, I expected that,” Shepard mutters, turning from the door. “But there’s a difference between not being polite and just not being a complete ass.” She taps on the next door, smile ready. When a grizzled turian answers, she starts over. “Hello! I apologize for bothering you, but —”

“Are you selling shit, or are you here about the kid dying?” the turian asks, mincing no words. “If you’re selling, I don’t need it. If you’re here about the kid, wrong apartment.”

“I — thank you, sir,” Nora replies, taken aback. “Can you — would you mind telling me if you saw any particularly striking asari recently?”

He lets out an aggravated whuff, mandibles flaring. “How, in the name of all spirits, would I know if an asari was _pretty?_ What do I look like, some alien-lover?” Samara catches Nora’s ears twitching. It’s an odd gesture, but she understands.

“We did not ask for pretty,” Samara says, stepping forward. “There is a difference between being striking, and beautiful. Is a ship beautiful when it is built only for function? Might you say krogan do not grab attention, though few would call them beautiful?”

He sniffs, mandibles wide again. “Fff. You might’ve said so. Yeah, seen one of those. Looked like trouble.” He leans forward, eying them. “Listen. I’ve got no love for aliens. But Diana’s a decent human. You go over there, harassing her about Nef, and I’ll have to find some of my old military training.” Teeth show. “Got me?”

“And here I thought it was just a Vakarian trait to be over-protective,” Nora snorts. “Understood, sir. Thank you for your time.” She turns quickly, so she doesn’t see. But the old turian twitches with surprise when her sentence hits, and he watches her retreat with more respect. Samara pays little attention to turian politics. But _that_ she files away for future use.

Knocking repeatedly at the next door brings no results. “One door left,” Nora hums. This time, they don’t even have to knock. The door’s standing open. A human women, greying hair cut short, sits up against the door and stares into the apartment. “Ma’am?” Nora asks, squatting to speak.

“I don’t need whatever you’re selling,” she mumbles in reply, voice thick with emotion. “Please leave.”

“I’m not here to sell you anything, ma’am. Are you the mother of… a Nef?” As soon as the name falls from Nora’s lips, the woman whips around, eyes wild.

“Get out if you’re not here to tell me you’re here to find the murderer who took my baby!” she snaps. “Not a single damn person on this station deserved her, and now she’s gone!”

Nora exhales and hits her knees. “Miss Diana, that’s exactly what we’re here for.” Samara doesn’t even have to say a word. Shepard calms the woman with surprisingly little effort. And then the woman gives them free rein.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi stares at Garrus, jaw dropped. “You — you won’t? But —”

“This is not information Nora needs right now,” he snarls. The way his hand tightens on the datapad, she has no doubt he’d like to crush it. “Bury it. Don’t let her see it."

“But —”

“No.” With that, he’s gone, striding out of the gun battery.

“Damn it!” she swears. She doesn’t know the quarian well enough yet. But it’s worth a shot.

  
\- - -

  
Ashley’s stretched out on a crate in the med-bay, idly critiquing Jack’s air-boxing, when a message comes to her omnitool.

_MOTHER OF THE UNIVERSE ASH PLEASE CLEAR A SPARRING SPACE IN THE SHUTTLE BAY OR I WILL CAVE A MOTHERFUCKER’S SKULL IN_

_What happened?_ she replies.

_FUCKING APPARENTLY SAMARA’S DAUGHTER IS APPARENTLY NOT JUST A NORMAL MURDERER AND I REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT I EXPECTED BUT FINDING OUT SHE’S PREYING ON LONELY GIRLS PISSED EVERY SINGLE INCH OF ME OFF_

_All three and a half of them?_ is what she sends back, hoping to calm Nora’s rage.

_FUCK YOU_   
_SPARRING SPACE_   
_PLEASE_   
_OTW BACK NOW_

She acquiesces. Twenty minutes later, Nora thunders into the shuttle bay. There’s no other words for the way she comes in, boiling like a pot left too long. “Jesus fuck, who peed in your coffee?” Jack asks, straightening from her stretch.

“Morinth,” Nora snorts. Two minutes flat, all her armor is off. “You my first victim?”

“I hadn’t had time to round up anyone,” Ashley pants, coming up to Shepard. “Been moving crates. What the fuck’s in those?”

“About a billion credits worth of palladium, eezo, etcetera,” she replies. “EDI! Shipwide. Tell everyone who wants to spar I’ll spar with them. Target practice after for everyone else. We need to work on that.” Then she turns on Ashley, evil smile curling her lips. “You up for it?”

“Always, Commander,” she replies. Nora doesn’t even wait. Instantly, she leaps forward, fist raised. Ashley ducks and spins, trying to kick Nora’s legs away, but the other woman’s already somersaulting over her.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt’s the first one down to the shuttle bay, just in time to see his commander send Williams flying. Considered Williams almost fought him to a standstill, it’s impressive. Of course, that’s what officers are supposed to be. Impressive.

“Done already?” he rumbles, stalking forward. A red mark sure to be a bruise, high on Shepard’s cheek, is the only sign of wear.

“Of course not,” Shepard replies. Biotics curl out from her as she crosses the shuttle bay, pushing a large jug of water closer. “Remind me to say thank you to the doctor for keeping me hydrated,” she adds over her shoulder before turning up the jug and chugging a third of it.

“Ready when you are,” he tells her from the center of the clear space. He expects a count. That’s usually how Williams does things. Instead, biotic energy rolls out from Shepard in a _strong_ shockwave. It’s badly aimed. Grunt only needs to step to the side to dodge it —

And she’s charging him, body armored with biotics. Some strange sound comes from her, curiously like a krogan war cry.

He charges back.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus watches. A month ago, even two weeks ago, he would have joined in. But now? Sparring with someone he is… marginally attracted to — well. Ending up in the Commander’s quarters is not how he wants this to end.

Yes it is, his traitorous mind insists. He tries to snipe the thought, kill it entirely dead. With Nora literally going toe to toe with a krogan, shiny with sweat and exertion, it’s hard.

(Okay, impossible.)

  
\- - -

  
Jack’s ready for her turn when Grunt finally gets slammed into a wall and goes down for the count, courtesy of Nora’s biotics. “Ready for a real fight, boss?” she asks, stepping up and cracking her knuckles. Nora’s initially too busy wiping the blood from her nose and chugging water to reply.

“Sure. Where’s it at?” is what she finally gasps. Undersuit practically soaked through, Shepard finally gives up on it and strips down to the tank and shorts most women wear beneath it. It’s not a bad idea, so Jack strips her own tank off.

And, honestly, she has to laugh at the challenge. “I’m not going down like those pansies.” She flexes, letting biotic power ripple over her skin. “I don’t lose.”

“Get ready to.” Only watching Nora fight Grunt and Ashley prepares Jack for the sudden speed as Shepard darts across the room. She dodges. A biotic pulse follows, ready to knock her off her feet.

“Hell _yeah!”_ she bellows, cartwheeling away from the power and sending a shockwave back. Nora meets it with her own, the energy colliding between them and shuddering as it dissipates. “That it?”

“Never,” Shepard breathes. They charge each other like krogan, eschewing the longer range biotic attacks entirely. Nora hits hard. But Jack learns fast. The commander’s using her biotics to give every blow a little extra. Not much. But a bit. So Jack responds in kind.

It quickly escalates to where Jack’s thinking _left feint, right swing, block, biotic push,_ turns into _catchthatdon’tlether, kickhardkick **fast** , spinawaytoo **close**_ — every thought desperate and breathless with adrenaline. Nora’s good, constantly increasing the distance just enough to throw Jack off before coming back in, full force. But there’s a pattern to it. Jack counts blows, prepares. Nora bounces back, wipes sweat away, and comes back, spinning into a high kick.

Jack catches it and twists, slamming Nora into the floor chest-first. Before Nora can do anything more than gasp, breath gone, Jack lands on her back. Hands on her wrists, knees firmly on either side of the commander’s hips, she snarls, “Match.”

“Not!” Nora spits back, bucking and wiggling beneath her. Her strength, even without biotics, surprises Jack.

She pours a little biotics into her hands to keep Nora still. Then she bends, just a bit, and breathes into Nora’s ear, “Give. I can sit here all damn day.”

Abruptly, Shepard goes still, and then limp beneath her. “Match,” she whispers, letting her head sag to the deck.

Their audience applauds, drawing them back from the odd silence. “Shit, I’m hungry enough to eat Gandhi’s sandals,” Jack sighs, standing and stretching. Nora rolls over to look at her, eyebrow raised.

Something strange in her eyes, Nora nonetheless says, “That’s oddly specific.”

“Yeah, well, it’s accurate. You want to eat the sandals off a super calloused fragile mystic hexed with halitosis when you’re not starving to death, be my guest,” Jack fires back. “Hey! Assholes! Which one of you horny dickwads took my shirt?”

  
\- - -

  
Shepard walks by, done sparring, after her fight with Jack. He steps forward. There’s one engineer having problems —

 _Grrrngh_ , his brain supplies when he catches the scent. It’s stronger this time than he’s ever caught it. And yes, adrenaline isn’t unfamiliar, but Nora practically _stinks_ of arousal.

_BAD, Garrus, bad!_

He flees to the gun battery and locks himself inside, engineers be damned.

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed settles into his designated seat with a grin and a Elenteian Blitz in his hand. “Best fuckin’ assignment yet,” he says to himself, taking a sip. The Batarian rum burns down his throat, and the fruit almost soothes it, but still leaves the sting behind. From this seat, he can see most of Afterlife. So he can easily see Shepard entering the club. It’s harder to catch her like this, hair dyed black, but the familiar shimmer of the dress she wore to that fancy-ass party near the Citadel makes it far easier to find her.

Two asari settle into seats nearby. He assesses them, but they’re too wobbly on their feet and their vision too fuzzy to be anything but really drunk. One eyes him and snorts, mumbling something about “humans too weak to drink anything not made for a quarian”. If he wasn’t on a mission, he’d beat their asses black and… hell, they’re already blue.

Someone accosts Nora. He sips at his Blitz again and watches. Turian, tall, slender — “Shit, she’s got fuckin’ _female_ turians crawlin’ on her!” he mutters. Shepard tosses out a smile, what looks like a giggle, and waltzes away.

It’s how most of the evening goes. Someone will come up to Nora, she bats them away, and it begins again. Halfway through, though, there’s a little excitement. An asari dancer slides from her pole and heads for the exit. A turian accosts her, waving his credit chit in the air. Even from his seat a third of the way across the club, Zaeed can hear him over the pulsing music. “…pay you **double!”**

The dancer must be on her break. She sets her mouth and firmly shakes her head. He continues, rambling on and on. Zaeed’s about to get up himself and take care of it when Nora notices and winds her way between writhing bodies. Her mouth moves, and the turian turns to her, lecherous look on his face. They exchange words. The turian lunges at her —

and she ducks, letting him fly over her head. It’s the best laugh Zaeed’s had since — well, he’s been laughing a lot lately.

  
\- - -

  
“No dice at all? Not even a _little_?” Jack asks, reclining in her mess hall chair. Nora’s half-asleep in her chair, gulping down giant mouthfuls of oatmeal.

“Neh,” she replies between bites. “Goin’ back tonight.” The last word almost gets lost in her yawn. “Don’t really want to. Clubs once every now and then are okay, but they’re not…” Another yawn. “Not really my thing.”

“I could go instead,” Jack offers. Nora shakes her head.

“Samara’s… there’s a reason. I think. I don’t remember.” The commander’s head sags. “Really shouldn’t go for the coffee.”

Jack stands and crosses the kitchen to the coffeepot. It’s only half a cup, but it’ll help. When the cup _clinks_ on the table in front of Nora, she looks up. “Oh! You didn’t have to!”

“Did.”

Shepard’s smile nearly knocks her over. She’s not used to seeing that kind of honesty in a smile for anything, let alone a goddamn half cup of coffee. “I’d ask if you want to go dress shopping with me, but it doesn’t seem like you,” she mutters after a sip.

“…dress shopping?” she has to ask, leaning on the table.

“I have to go back tonight. I can’t go in wearing the same dress.” Nora’s nose twitches. “This is why I’m bad at undercover. I’d rather stay in and spar, or read a book, or — hell, I think I might rather watch elcor porn!”

“Jesus! It’s just a club!” Jack sputters. “It can’t be that bad!”

Nora’s glare over the edge of the coffee cup says otherwise. “I had _seventeen_ different people grab my butt last night. I don’t even have a butt! And eight tried to motorboat me, without permission, in the middle of the club!” Despite the anger and disgust on Nora’s face, Jack can’t help bursting into laughter. “And I couldn’t even beat them up for it!”

“Shit, I think I might ask for club detail tonight. I could use a laugh like that,” Jack wheezes. Nora’s response is a snort.

Another sip, and then she says, “I think Garrus asked for indoors detail tonight. Thane will be eyes up high outside.” She offers an apologetic smile. “If we don’t get her tonight, we’ll have to go back again. You can have tomorrow?”

“Deal.” Then Jack can’t help grinning. “What do you mean, you’re bad at undercover? I thought you were always on top of things. Or isn’t that how Joker hurt his hip?”

 _ **“JACK!”**_ Shepard shrieks, cheeks immediately flushing red. “I — you — _really?”_ Jack just winks over her shoulder and goes to drop her plates in the sink. Phantom giggles float through the air. Jack can’t help tensing. Then she hears Nora sigh, “Really, Kasumi?”

“It’s amusing to hide. You always get so much more out of people,” the thief’s voice comes from nowhere. “But that’s not why I’m here. I have a surprise for you.” She appears, standing beside the table, two large boxes in hand. “I picked up a couple of things while we were at the Citadel, shopping for my… excursion. You liked them, you looked good, it was going to be a present after we made out of the Omega-4.”

Jack leans against the counter, curious. Shepard raises an eyebrow and takes one box, cracking it open. “Holy — Kasumi! What? Why?” Nora exclaims. “These were _expensive_!”

Kasumi’s lips quirk at the corner. “I have plenty of money to spend.” She sets the other box on the table and taps it. “These are matching shoes for both. I recommend black for tonight.” With that, she disappears again.

“What is it?” Jack asks, pushing herself off the counter and walking closer.

“It’s… we had to stop at Donovan Hock’s party, right? We picked one dress, but there were a couple others I liked.” She extends the box in her hand towards Jack. “Have a look.” So she steps closer.

Black cloth, as dark as space, is the first thing she sees. “Inspiring,” she mumbles dryly.

She glances up and catches Nora’s eyes rolling. “Pick it up.” She rolls her eyes right back at her, but picks it up anyway. Then she understands the appeal. At the shoulders, the thick straps are pitch black. Below that, a few sparkles — below that, a little more — until the bottom is a scintillating mass of light when it moves. It’s not glitter. It looks like someone cut a piece of the galaxy and turned it into a dress.

“Holy fuck,” Jack breathes. “This cost more credits than most of my tattoos, didn’t it?” She looks down in the box — the second dress is deep crimson red. Even without picking it up, she can see how low-cut it is.

“The shoes match.” Nora moves to pull the lid off the top of the box, but stops. “Listen to me. I’m sitting and giggling over dresses like a civilian.” She sighs, the sound surprisingly derisive. “At least they’ll be useful. I don’t go anywhere outside of the ship that I could wear these. I don’t know what Kasumi was thinking.”

“She was thinking you deserve something nice,” someone else says. Both of them jump and turn their heads. Karin’s standing at the entrance to the mess hall, eyebrow raised. “It was a sweet gesture. Now take your dresses up to your room. Some of the rowdier crew are coming up for lunch.”

Nora doesn’t need any more bidding. Chakwas didn’t even break out the mom voice. Shepard gathers the shoe box to her chest and holds her hand out to Jack. Startled, she shoves the dress back into the box, crams the lid on, and hands it over. 

\- - -

As a matter of course, Nora walks sensibly. Six-inch heels are not made for walking sensibly, though. She feels ridiculous. Every person attracted to humans in the club apparently disagrees. She brushes off a half-dozen advances before she even reaches the bar. When someone grabs her hip, she regrets the diamond cut outs in the dress. But Afterlife’s bouncers don’t say a word when she decks the transgressor. “Citadel Spritzadel, please,” she asks the bartender. It’s the first time she’s ever had a volus check her out.

Halfway through her fifth Citadel Spritzadel, a human man takes the seat next to her. “How sober are you?”

“…too sober,” she answers, rolling her eyes and turning. “Let me guess, you need someone to pick up drugs?”

“No!”

Ten minutes later, she’s leaning over a table, hitting on someone. “Hey beautiful, what say you and I go somewhere private? I’m so good, they asked me if I wanted a terminal to sell my services.”

“Ugh!” the girl responds. “I’m — ew, no!”

“Come on,” Nora purrs. “Asari have nothing on me. I’ll _really_ show you eternity.” In case it’s not clear, she makes sure to bear down on the last word.

“Get lost, dumbass,” the man across the table snarls. “She doesn’t want you.” Nora doesn’t need to linger. The dumbstruck expression on the girl’s face is enough.

“Fine. Your loss,” she tosses out, sauntering away. She’s not paying attention when she bumps into an asari on her way back to the bar.

“Hey! Rude!” the asari scolds.

Nora spins and squeaks, “Oh! Sorry!” The asari opens her mouth, glances Nora up and down, and grins.

“Tell you what. Dance with me, we’ll call it even.” She lets the asari yank her onto the floor. Usually by now, she’s fuzzy enough to let loose. This time, it’s harder. She knows she’s dancing like an idiot, all twitches and awkward moves. The asari dances with her until the end of the song, and then slips away. Nora lingers.

“Shame you’re all alone,” a batarian voice rumbles to her left. She glances over and raises an eyebrow. Before her brain even comes up with a response, a hand slides onto her hip.

“She’s not,” a familiar voice rumbles above her head. Nora cranes her neck backward and catches a glimpse of bandaged mandible, as if the voice and the talons pressing into her skin weren’t signal enough. The batarian backs off, hands raised in the universal gesture of apology.

Music thrums beneath her feet. She reaches up and grabs the back of Garrus’s neck, drawing him down just a bit. “What are you doing?” she hisses. Standing like this, it’ll hopefully look like… not tactical questioning.

“Didn’t realize you were into batarians,” he replies, grip on her hip tightening. “Thought you might appreciate a save.” And then, quieter, “I think I saw someone watching you. An asari. They’re… Well. It might be.”

“Got it,” she murmurs. “Don’t leave yet. It’ll look suspicious.” She waits for his hum of assent before she drops her hand and closes her eyes, leaning back. He smells the same as he always has, with hints of gun metal and strange spices. It’s a safe scent. It’s not alcohol, but she can trust him. Besides, he won’t mind.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus inhales sharply when Nora relaxes into him and begins dancing in earnest. _You knew this was a bad idea,_ he chastens himself. But it’s the enjoyable kind of bad. He should pull away. But his talons, pressed into her bare hip, can feel the muscles moving under her skin. Her dress brushes against his plates with every move, and her scent fills his nostrils.

 _Bad_! he tells himself again, even as he settles his other hand on Nora’s other hip and pulls her tighter against his body. With those… things… on her feet, she’s tall enough to come up to his mandibles. Her hair’s unbelievably soft. It’s almost normal, for a minute. Then her hip slides from his grasp. His talons catch on the edge of the cloth. Before he can do anything, she spins to face him and flings her arms around his neck, burying her face there.

Conscious thought leaves him. Her nose brushes the underside of his jaw, breath warm on his neck. This close, he can hear her humming along with the music, the sound soft and melodic beneath the thunder of sound around them. He exhales, fingers sliding from her hips to her waist. She doesn’t stop dancing. _Fuck_ , he thinks, brain dissolving as she dissolves into the music.

  
\- - -

  
Nora loses track of time dancing with Garrus. By the time she finally pulls away, Nora’s uncomfortable. Not badly. But sweat’s beading on her forehead and she’s far too aware of exactly how much she’s attracted to turians. Without looking back, she leaves the dance floor and goes straight for the bar. “Thessian Sun Tea, please,” she orders.

“Oh, how simple,” a voice purrs to her left. Startled, she twitches away before getting an eyeful. It’s an asari, taller than Samara, eyes dark and alluring —

 _This has to be her._ “Do you have a better suggestion?” Nora replies, voice low.

“Of course. Thessia is _boring_. Try… Give her a Tiny Tuchanka,” she orders. The bartender nods, turning to make it. “My name is Morinth. And yours?”

“Who says I want you to know?” Nora teases. “It could be top secret.”

“Oh, secrets, hm? I like those,” Morinth replies, eyes going dark. “I’m sure I can find some way to make up for the loss of it.”

“Mmm… we’ll see. For now, you can call me Ella.” _Clink_. The Tiny Tuchanka slides down the bar. It’s beautiful, all orange, grey, and white. She eyes it for a second before shrugging and tipping it up. It burns going down, but the burn vanishes quickly. _Damn metabolism,_ she grouses and sets the glass down. “Not bad. Got another?”

Morinth’s… not quite gaping, but her eyes are wide. “Oh, I like courage like that. What say we retire somewhere more private?” she asks, leaning forward and dragging her fingers across the back of Nora’s hand. Her skin’s smoother than velvet. Somehow, it leaves more burn than the liquor.  
  
“Whatever is wrong with right here?” Nora asks, leaning back and crossing her ankles. “I like this place.”

“It’s loud.” Morinth lets a little snort loose. “And I’m afraid if we stay here much longer, that turian might come devour you.” Nora raises an eyebrow. “The one you danced with. He looks like trouble.”

Nora glances over her shoulder. Indeed, Garrus is sitting five or six tables away with a brandy in hand. His gaze is fixed on them, darker than she’s ever seen it. “Well…” And then she realizes it _has_ to be late. A glance at her omnitool tells her it’s 4 AM GST. “Tell you what. Meet me outside tomorrow at… let’s say, 1900 GST. We’ll go somewhere quieter.”

Morinth’s browbones arch. “What makes you think I’m willing to wait?” she asks, a little thread of danger in her voice.

“What’s worth having is worth waiting for,” Nora purrs as she stands. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  
\- - -

  
Joker exhales when Nora leaves Afterlife, unmolested. “Jesus, this is going to kill me.” One hand shoots out toward the copilot’s seat, beckoning. “C’mon, Tali. Don’t leave a guy hanging.”

“I wasn’t leaving you hanging, Joker. Did you not see the vorcha trying to follow Shepard?” she grouses, handing him another beer.

He shoots upright in his seat, leaving her with the beer in hand. “What?”

“They probably figured out who was behind fixing the plague problem,” Tali murmurs, shaking the bottle. “Do you want this?”

“Fine, fine. Jeez. Killer asari, crazy vorcha… man, who would want to have sex with a vorcha?” he asks, the question very rhetorical.

“Is this about that brothel again?” Tali asks, opening her omnitool after a sip at her dextro version of a lemon sour. “There are brothels for everything. Did you never consider that there are rich vorcha?” Joker shoots her a look. Hopefully, it communicates his exact opinion on the matter. “Rude, Joker, rude.”

His heart almost stops when Kasumi materializes between them, perched on the control panel. “Everyone has sex, and some have to pay for it. It’s how the universe works. Or did you think Shepard lied about the elcor porn?” Her body shudders, theatrical and overdone. “Let me tell you, that’s something I never wanted to see. But people have strange… tastes.”

“Hello, Kasumi,” Tali greets her, voice dry. “Did you want a drink?”

“I’m here on a mission, actually.” The thief’s playful tones sober. “I got lucky and caught you both here. Listen… there’s something I think Shepard should know, and I don’t think I’m the right person to tell her.”

“Is this about Ken planting cameras in the girl’s room? I swear, I knew nothing about that till after it happened,” Joker vows, eyes shifty.

Kasumi laughs, but quickly sobers again. “No. I…” She sighs and swings her feet, staring down. “Shepard wasn’t rebuilt by a rogue cell. It was on orders from the Illusive Man.”

Joker can’t help the snort. “Well, yeah. I kinda figured.” Kasumi’s jaw drops. “Who the hell loses track of six billion credits? And it was all just… too convenient. Oh, look at this, we hired your old pilot. And look! A ship! Complete with doctor!” He leans back and crosses his arms. “I’m fragile, not fucking dumb.”

Another sigh. “Well, then. That’s not the part I think Shepard will have trouble hearing.” She pauses, fingers twitching. Then she whispers, “Miranda was the one in charge of rebuilding her.”

“ _ **What**_?” Tali and Joker both demand. Kasumi just crosses her arms and lets her head droop. “Son of a bitch! And here I was, starting to think she was a half-decent human being! My mistake!” Joker growls.

“You’ll tell her, then?” she asks. Tali answers first.

“Shepard does not need any distractions. She’s having a hard enough time already, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’ll tell her if — _when_ we survive the Collector base.” Tali exhales. “I should keep an eye on Miranda, too.”

Joker shakes his head. “Yeah… no, I’m with Tali. She doesn’t need to know. Not right now.” Judging by the way Kasumi’s lips twitch, she knows what he means, at least a little. “Maybe after her medicine kicks in, full throttle, but for now? She’s busy enough with killer asari.” A glance at the feed from Thane’s hardsuit camera, and he can see Garrus tailing after Nora, steps predatory. “And apparently, turian snipers who want to get it,” he mumbles, barely audible. Tali chokes on her drink, though, so it probably should have been quieter.

“I see.” And just like that, no preamble, Kasumi is gone. Joker stares ahead for a minute before tipping his bottle up and drinking half of it in one go.

“Well, shit,” is how he phrases it. Tali spits out something in… hell, he doesn’t know what quarians speak. Quarianish.

  
\- - -

  
Samara meets Nora at the airlock, eyes wide. “You have snared her perfectly. She has never been able to resist a challenge, and you have presented one. Be prepared. She will bring all her power to bear on you, and it is not inconsiderable.”

Nora smiles at her. Samara can see it’s meant to be comforting. “Don’t worry, Samara. I can’t say I’ve hunted killer asari before. But I’ve done some pretty wild stuff. We’ll get her.”

Of all the things Samara wants to do, number one is trusting Shepard. But she has seen others fall, far too easily. “We will see.”

  
\- - -

  
When Nora goes to her room to change, there are little welts on her hips. “What on earth?” she mutters, running fingers over them. Then she realizes. They’re only in the places her dress didn’t cover. “Garrus…”

(But she doesn’t put medigel on them.)

  
\- - -

  
Tali’s waiting for Garrus when he emerges from the crew quarters the next day, still bleary-eyed. “Oh Garrussss…” she hums. He huffs and brushes past her, heading straight for the dextro rations. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it? The gun engineers should be finished installing tomorrow. Then I can go fix whatever they broke, and we’ll have a working Thanix cannon!” she bubbles, bright and cheery.

“Mm,” he responds.

“And Shepard has a date with Morinth.” She pauses. All she gets is his mandibles pulling tight, and only for a second, but it’s enough. “And we get to pretend we’re justicars for a night!” She watches the turian pour a cupful of citar juice and stomp into the gun battery, ration bar in hand. She follows. “By the way…”

“Hm?” he grunts, slightly more responsive now.

“When were you planning on telling you had _feelings_ for Shepard?” she asks as soon as the doors shut behind her. He starts and nearly drops his cup.

“What — Tali —” he squawks.

“Don’t try denying it, Garrus. I saw the feeds last night. Morinth was right. You were looking at her like you wanted to devour her.” She crosses her arms and leans back. “There’s no shame in liking her, really. She’s every turian’s wet dream.” Reconsidering, she adds, “Well, except for the part where she’s human. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human so duty-bound. Less now, but when she was Alliance…”

Finally, he interrupts. “I’m not — I don’t have feelings for Shepard. Just… she’s… convenient.” Even if she wasn’t used to reading body language, she could tell he’s lying. But she lets him go on. “I’m going to find a nice turian woman tonight. Let off some steam. That’s all it is.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “Let me know how that goes. Something tells me you’re lying.” She lets her arms fall and steps forward, stabbing him in the chest with one finger. “Hint: it’s you. You’re a _bad_ liar.” With that, she leaves him in the battery, looking terribly confused.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi’s on Shepard’s tail as soon as she leaves the Normandy. Morinth’s late, but only barely. She taps a message out to Joker, Do you see this? Classic. Just like waiting three days to call.

His reply’s fast, as usual.

_giggity_   
_shame she’s a killer asari n all that_   
_she's pretty hot_   
_like mother like daugter ;0_

She has to stare at that message for a second. It’s hardly unexpected. But… _Please stop checking out criminals and asari paragons._

_cant stop wont stop :)_   
_shouldn't u be payin attention_   
_plz dont get my cmdr killed_   
_i don’t have threats but there’s a lot of_   
_u know_   
_rly dangerous ppl on board_

Morinth and Nora walk off a moment later, as if timed. For all Shepard’s bluster about being bad at undercover, she knows how to play it. She walks close enough to Morinth that their arms bump periodically. Five minutes’ walk takes them to a little restaurant. It’s nothing special, as restaurants go. But it’s clean. Not bad for Omega.

Honestly, it might be the most boring night she’s had in a long, long time. Most of it she spends playing games on her omnitool. The rest she spends recording Morinth’s pickup lines and saving them. Nora’s red dress and black hair seem to have inspired the asari to wax poetic. It’s all war poetry, about death, blood, and battlefields, but still poetry. They ramble on about music, art, dancing — Nora spends most of her time disagreeing with Morinth, but doing it so well it just leaves the asari intrigued.

Finally, Morinth purrs, “I have an apartment nearby. Would you like to… see my collection?” The asari drags her eyes over Shepard’s body. Kasumi lets herself be proud. Nora’s pale skin peeks from strategically placed cutouts at the end of the straps, providing both tantalizing cleavage and a hint at what lies beneath.

“As long as it’s all masterworks,” Nora flirts back.

Kasumi opens her omnitool and sends both Samara and Joker a _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

 _calm plz, pay attention_ is what Joker says. It’s followed by him saying, _if they get naked plz save for posterity. plz._

Samara replies with, _I heard. I’m ready to disembark from the Normandy. Do not lose them, please. This is Shepard’s life at stake._ She sends back an assent as the two stand, Morinthoffering Nora a hand as they exit.

The soft message chime reaches her ears as she follows. A glance down — Joker. _ps i might not have gotten horizontal w/ Nor lately but thx for that dress ;) gotta enjoy the view_

She just rolls her eyes and shuts her omnitool, in favor of following. Morinth’s apartment is… not as far from Nef’s as they'd thought. A serviceable enough neighborhood, even slightly upscale for Omega. _I’m here. Hurry._

_On my way._

  
\- - -

  
Morinth’s touch reminds her of all the fantasies about drell. If the universe at large knew about Ardat Yakshi, every single one of them would be hunted and turned into sex slaves. Even as Morinth leads her into an apartment where others have died, Nora finds herself glad this proud asari will never suffer that. “Your apartment is… beautiful,” she breathes, dropping Morinth’s hand. “Is that a life size krogan statue?”

“It is.” And then Morinth tells a long-winded (for her, anyway) story about a krogan suitor. Nora doesn’t have to ask to know what happened there. Ella, though, does.

So she bubbles, “Wow! It’s a shame it didn’t work out. Imagine having a rich krogan suitor…” she tilts her head back, imagining. She almost imagines Morinth growling. Thankfully, she had enough wine at supper to feign tipsiness. _I miss getting tipsy,_ she thinks for just an instant. _But now it means she thinks I’m subdued and harmless._

Eventually, there’s no more art to gush over. So Morinth sits on the couch and pats it, eyes soft and deceiving. “Come, we can look at these treasures later,” the asari purrs. “Have you no… treasure… of your own to show me?”

It’s a good line. Cheesy, but good. So Nora returns the sly little smile and steps closer. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she whispers, hand trailing along the strap to her dress. Morinth’s own smile grows.

“Of course,” she murmurs, crooking her finger. Nora comes, standing in between Morinth’s legs. “Take a seat.” So she straddles one leg and bends her head to Morinth.

Soft, unbelievably smooth lips touch her own, the pressure gentle and insistent, begging her to open. She does, thinking, _Samara, where are you?_ Blue fingers skim up her calf as the kiss deepens, Morinth pulling her closer. For a second, Nora closes her eyes and lets herself believe. She lets herself believe it’s another asari kissing her, sliding a palm up her thigh beneath her dress. She thinks of the way Liara’s blue eyes had turned into stormy seas, the way she would always break apart, whole body shuddering.

“Yield to me,” Morinth murmurs into her mouth when she pulls away. A little more lost in her fantasy than she’ll admit later, Nora whines and dives back in. “ _Yield_!”

Her voice sounds nothing like Liara’s soft groans. It’s what pulls Nora back. “Why?” she breathes, squirming.

Morinth’s hands clamp onto her hips, like pliable steel vices. She has to bite back a groan. “Trust me. You’re safe. I want you to give in,” the asari hisses. Then she drags Nora down into another kiss, one hand sliding up the side of the dress. A finger hooks beneath a strap and it gives way, sliding down Nora’s arm.

Shepard breaks away this time, breathing hard. “Safety’s illusive,” she gasps. For a second, she laughs at the word illusive. But only to herself.

Morinth stills for a second. “It’s true. We’re never safe,” she mutters. Then she moves like lightning, slamming Nora into the couch and hovering above her, one knee firmly between her thighs. “But what’s so fascinating about safety?” After she asks, she leans down and sinks her teeth into Nora’s neck. This time, the long moan breaking free can’t be helped. “I’m independent. You’re submissive,” Morinth breathes into her ear. “Let’s share that.”

She doesn’t have a response. Her hands are jammed into the cushions, desperately trying not to participate. So Morinth goes on. “Look into my eyes.” Nora catches her gaze, despite the feeling in her stomach telling her no. “Tell me you want me.”

For some reason, everything seems fuzzy, and yet bright. Nora can’t help the words falling from her mouth. “I… I want you…”

“Good.” Both hands run up her thighs. “Don’t move.” Nails scraping against her skin, all the way to her hips. Then fingers hook around straps, and Morinth murmurs, “Tell me you’d do anything for me. Sex… death…”

 _Death. **Death**._ Somehow, the word shakes the fuzz from her mind. “Don’t count on it,” she growls. Morinth, down on her elbows between Nora’s legs, looks up in shock. It’s too slow. Shepard locks her thighs around the asari’s neck and twists, throwing them both off the couch.

“What — who —” Morinth gasps, rolling free. Nora stands, knees weak, but she stands.

“The amount of people who somehow fail to recognize me, even in disguise, is amazing,” Shepard spits. “Commander Nora Shepard, at your service.” Morinth rises to one knee, frowning. “By the way? Your mom says hi.”

“Indeed, I do.”

“ _ **Mother**_!”

  
\- - -

  
Jacob’s in the cockpit of the Normandy with the rest of the ground team, anxiously watching through Kasumi’s suit cam. When Samara reaches down, everyone looks away, and Joker shuts the feed down. A minute later, he jokes, “Well, damn. Free lesbian porn?”

“Does it count as lesbian if it’s with an asari?” Tali asks, tapping her chin. “They _resemble_ human females, but —” She’s cut off by Garrus turning tail and leaving.

“…what? Did I piss him off?” Joker asks the air. “Turians have lesbians, right?”

  
\- - -

  
Garrus stomps down to the gun battery. He spends ten minutes calibrating before he gives up and sits on the floor in front of the console, head in hands. “Going to find a nice turian… let off steam…” he snorts. “Yeah. That worked.”

After a few more minutes of silence, he turns on music. It’s nothing in his top favorites. It’s something Liara showed him, smooth and soothing. It’s the only thing he can think of that won’t remind him of either the club or of Nora’s soft gasps. Before he knows it, he’s rising to his feet and staggering to the little cot in the back of the gun battery. (Nora made him put it there after she found him dozing at the console.)

  
\- - -

  
Samara disappears as soon as they’re back on the Normandy. Nora disappears quickly, too. Kasumi goes back to her favorite spot and stares out at the stars, debating.

  
\- - -

  
“ _Pssst. Pssst, Garrus!”_

_“What?” he groans, rolling over and throwing an arm over his face. Every time he falls asleep in here, without fail, Nora wakes him up._

_“Guess what?” she whispers, very close to him. He just shrugs. “I heard you went out on a date last night. Was she pretty?” His response is a non-committal hum. “Answer me, Garrus,” she breathes into his ear._

_“She… wasn’t bad,” he chokes out, all too aware of her standing close._

_“Just not bad, huh?” Weight suddenly settles on his waist. Not much, clearly calculated and balanced — he opens his eyes to find Nora straddlng him, dressed just as she was last night. One strap dangles, out of place. “Why would you settle for not bad when I’m right there?” she asks, leaning forward and supporting herself with a hand on his chest. “Stop fighting.”_

_“Commander,” he grinds out between his teeth. She grins at him, more devilish than he’s seen in a long time._

_“Don’t call me Commander,” she purrs, rolling her hips forward. “Say my name. Nora.” He does nothing, hands hovering in the air. “Say it.” Another roll, this one tilted further forward. He can feel the soft press of her skin against his waist. Still, he says nothing. “Say it!” With that, she leans back and lets her entire body fall into the roll, pressing her hips down against his perfectly._

_“Fuck! Nor—”_

“Up and at em, sir Snipes-A-Lot!” Joker’s voice comes over the intercom. “Last minute tweaks before your engineers leave are happening soon. Better get going!”

Garrus bolts upright in bed, breathing heavily. “I — what — yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Joker’s voice fades. He’s left alone to stare at his hands, resting on his knees. It’s not until he moves to stand that he notices what’s really happened.

It hasn’t happened since he was thirteen and full of… well, a lot of things. “Shit.”


	10. Death, Be Not Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's a mess, she's a mess, she's a mess, and she knows it. But maybe things will be okay.
> 
> Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nora relives her death a little bit. TRIGGER WARNING for suffocation and suicidal thoughts mention. This chapter goes over Alchera. I wrote this chapter to be emotionally taxing.

She retires to her room after the entire mess with Samara and Morinth is over. For a little while, she just stands and stares about the room blankly. There’s no blood on her dress. Splatter usually doesn’t confine itself, but it’s only on her shoes and legs. Strangely, she finds herself glad she wore the extravagant heels yesterday and not today. The low red pumps will be far easier to clean. (It shouldn’t even be a concern. _How fucked up are you that you’re more worried about your shoes than killing someone?_ she thinks.)

Thunk. Heels hit the floor. The dress almost follows. Only the memory of the price tag keeps her from it. Instead, she tosses it over her terminal and slithers into the bathroom, chucking her underwear at the wall. It’s not even really hers. The dress didn’t allow for a bra. All her own underclothing was too plain and functional for what was supposed to be, essentially, a booty call. They’re Miranda’s.

Being docked means she doesn’t have to worry about how much hot water she’s using. Most of the crew are on Omega with real dates, not ones designed for the purpose of trapping and murdering someone. Her shower really does start as an attempt to wash her body. Halfway through, she starts crying and can’t stop. It’s not big dramatic sobs. Only the familiar, too-slow seep of tears. She attempts to finish before she breaks down. It’s futile. A minute later, she shudders, turns the water lukewarm, and leans against the wall to slide into a heap. Even lifting her hands to cup her face seems like too much effort as she lies there.

“Liara, why?” she asks the shower head. “I did everything I could, Li. You know that.” A fresh wave of tears bubbles to the surface. She doesn’t even try suppressing it this time. “The only person I’ve ever been enough for died to save me.” She shuts her eyes and shudders again. “If you still… if…” she can’t even say it out loud. “I thought I might be something other than convenient for you. I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers into the air, eyes starting to sting from the salt. Her chin drops to her chest. Dark purple, almost black, slides down the drain. Dried blood. Part of it might be dye. She doesn't care. After watching it go for a moment, she draws her legs close and tries scrubbing them again.

Twenty minutes later, she finally makes it out of the shower. She only towels off her hair because she knows she’ll wake up sneezing otherwise. Then she crawls into bed and caves in on herself, a disjointed clump of limbs and emotion. “This is why I can’t do one night stands,” she mumbles into the darkness. “Fucking emotions.”

  
\- - -

  
 _Tk. Tk. Tk. Tk._ Miranda’s filed every report she can think of. Her desk is spotless, organized, and empty. All her things have been alphabetized, or color-organized. Her armor… could probably stand polishing, but she’ll get there later. _Tk. Tk. Tk._ She can’t stop opening the drug regulation program, closing it after a minute, and repeating.

“Miranda, are you busy?” Miranda swears at the sound of Nora’s voice. She didn’t even hear the door.

“I — no, not particularly. Has something happened?” Miranda asks, stowing the file, standing, and trying not to look guilty. Nora looks tired, but functional. Something seems off, though. She squints — ah. The black hair dye she used to disguise herself for flushing out Morinth isn’t entirely gone.

“Just doing some damage control. I know you mentioned wanting to find a better pistol, or mods for yours. For mods, there’s nowhere better than Omega.” Shepard tilts her head a bit, soft smile dancing across her face. “Wanna come? EDI said you didn’t take any shore.”

Miranda inhales. “I… was busy.” Nora glances at the meticulous office and bedroom, glances back, and nods slowly.

“Right. Coming, or do you need more time to do…” The commander’s not even subtle about her glance around. “Whatever you were doing. I’d say lunch is my treat, but I’m pretty sure Cerberus pays you more than they pay me.”

Her wry smile somehow manages to put Miranda at ease. “I’ll be there shortly. Who’s coming with us?”

“Thane expressed a desire to guide our purchasing. Apparently I make a habit of picking plebeian guns.” This time her grin’s wide, still faded, but wide. “Airlock in ten.” She disappears out Miranda’s door. She watches her go, shoulders slumped.

“I said that once. In the middle of a firefight. Three weeks ago.” One hand flies to her forehead, carding through her hair before pressing there. “I barely remembered I said it.”

 _Woosh_. “Oh, by the way! Here!” The soft bit of lace and cloth almost hits Miranda in the face. “Had ‘em washed this morning. Mission was weird, but successful. Thanks!” Without further ado, Nora’s gone.

Miranda stares at the panties. They’re barely a handful, meant to entice. Nora borrowed them to seduce a killer asari. For a second, unreasonable rage owns her. _How can someone be so insufferably well-meaning?_ The rage fades quickly, though. She drops the bit of cloth and leaves her office. “EDI, where’s Samara?”

“She is currently meditating in port observation,” the computer answers. Miranda heads straight there.

The door opens to a darkened room. Only Samara’s biotics and the glow of Omega’s lights provide any relief. “Samara?” she asks, hesitant. The justicar turns her head, just enough for Miranda to know she’s listening. “How did your… ah… Was your plan successful?”

“Insofar as completing my goal, yes. Shepard was invaluable. Were I not a justicar, I might ask her to come to Thessia with me. Such a heart would be not be amiss on my homeworld.” Samara turns her head a little farther. “But you are not here to inquire about the content of her character, are you?”

Miranda winces. _Saying I am, actually, because I want to stop poisoning her, will hardly go over well_. “I was… not not here to ask about it, actually. She commands peculiar loyalty among the members of her ground team, both past and present.” She hesitates, trying to think of the words.

“You wish to know if it is a natural ability, or something she learned, then?” Finally, the glow of the biotics dissipates. Samara stands and turns to face her. “It is both. She knows her own heart well, and she understands the pain of others. Those combined means she cares, at least for those she is most often with.” A light on Omega flickers into view as Samara inclines her head. “Often, she will meditate with me. She speaks to me with surprising candor then. I have seen even among those who are not the ground crew, she attempts to be friendly. Such an effort is more than most would even think plausible, let alone necessary.”

Every word lands on Miranda’s shoulders like a great weight, until she might as well be Atlas. “So… she thinks everyone is important, and treats them that way, which makes them loyal?”

“Yes, to a degree.” Samara’s head comes up, signaled by the light winking out of sight. “That is not to say she is of entirely sterling character. She bothers with little control of her emotions if unnecessary. Fickleness is one of her greater qualities, not one of her better. Carelessness often becomes disregard for others. She thinks herself the sole arbiter of what is right and good. But there is good in her, as there is in all of us.”

“…thank you, Samara,” Miranda murmurs. “I’ll leave you to your meditation.” She flees. There’s only four minutes before she has to meet Shepard. No time for armor, but it’s only Omega.

  
\- - -

  
As soon as the elevator opens, Ashley pounds up the CIC. “Oi! The hell’re you running out without me for?” Shepard turns around, eyes wide.

“Ash! I didn’t think you’d want to go. Both you and Garrus got to pick up mods and guns while we were out before.” She raises an eyebrow. “Or is this a veiled way of telling me you don’t trust me out in Omega by my lonesome?”

Her gaze flicks to Miranda for just a second. Luckily, the operative’s checking her guns and doesn’t see it. Nora does, though. The other eyebrow rises to match the first. Ash gulps and hurries on, “There’s a lot of Omega I haven’t seen yet! C’mon, Nor!”

The nickname does it. Shepard’s features resemble nothing so much as a displeased cat, ears laid back. “I hate that nickname.”

Ash grins. “Why do you think I use it?”

Nora’s dark eyes narrow. “Isn’t this insubordination?”

“Hey, if Joker gets to, why don’t I?” Ashley asks. They’re at the airlock now. For once, the cockpit doors are wide open, and said pilot swivels around in his chair.

“What do I get to do?” he asks, leaning on his hand. “Hi, by the way.”

“It’s —” Ashley cuts Nora off.

“We’re discussing why you get to call Nor Nor, and nobody else does,” she says, grinning a little bit. She knows where this will end up.

Joker doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the price I’m charging for not telling everyone how kinky she is.”

“ _Jeff_!” Nora squawks. Bright red spreads across her face. “I — you —”

“What? It’s true.” He leans forward, just a bit, and adds, “Or should I start narrating how —”

Nora darts forward and claps one hand over his mouth. “If you say one more word, I’m going to throw away and block every copy of _Fornax_ , _Intimi_ , and _Blue Breast_  on this ship.” He shrugs, nonchalant and uncaring. Then she tacks on, “I know where the stash in the vents is, too.” His eyes go wide and he sinks back into his chair. Shepard grins, little and triumphant, and turns. “Now, if we’re all done acting like we’re five, let’s go.”

  
\- - -

  
It would be remiss if Thane hadn’t noticed something wrong as soon as they entered the market. Eyes on them from somewhere. A glance about tells him there’s nobody in the buildings. _Someone in the crowd._ There’s nobody obvious. Not yet. When they move on to the little window where an elderly drell woman hands out knife attachments for shotguns, he stays alert.

He spots them two stalls later. A middle-aged man lingers in the crowd, every time, until they’re done. He doesn’t say anything. Yet. When they reach their next stop, the street seems emptier. Still, he says nothing. And then they’re somewhere he recognizes, picking up modifications for Chakwas’s pistol, and the street only has a few people. Too many of them are people who’ve been joining the crowd slowly and following them.

A single touch to Shepard’s elbow where she leans over the stall, haggling with the heavily veiled human. “An ambush seems imminent,” he murmurs, voice pitched to reach her ears only. Her spine goes stiff.

“How many?” she replies, voice soft as she slides the credit chit across the counter. Otherwise, she doesn’t move a hair. He glances around, just in case. The count has changed.

“Twenty-one. I do not see any snipers or hidden caches of soldiers.” She nods and straightens, turning around and leaning against the stall next to him.

“I probably don’t have to tell you, but act cool,” she tells him. Her face seems frozen in a rictus, even as she bumps her hip against his and laughs.

 _Too loud, too false_. He laughs in response, his laugh more controlled than her own, and turns toward her. He’s also doing his best to keep an eye on Miranda and Ashley, one shop over and haggling over hair products. “They seem to be led by an older man. Their armor is mismatched.”

She nods and leans into him. “I don’t know Omega well. We need to get somewhere civilians aren’t in danger.”

Thane smiles down at her, takes her elbow, and guides her toward the others. As they reach Miranda and Ashley, the former turns toward them. Looking pleased as she stows something, she asks, “Where next?”

They don’t get to answer before Ashley cuts them off. “Nora and Thaaane, sittin’ in a —”

“I swear to every holy thing in the galaxy, if you finish that, I will hunt you down and shave your head,” Nora hisses. Ashley looks taken aback by the venom in Shepard’s voice.

“Jesus, Nora, it’s just a joke!” she grumbles.

Thane snorts. “We are about to be ambushed. Do not be surprised by the commander’s surliness.” As soon as the word ‘ambushed’ hits their ears, Ashley’s straightening up and glancing around. Miranda’s more subtle, smoothing her hair and checking her lipstick as she looks about, but still too obvious.

“Civilians?” Ashley asks, pushing off and strolling away. They follow.

“Not many.”

“There’s a place not too far from here where the streets —” _THUNK_! Someone lands squarely in front of them, teeth bared, and charges. All of them tense, Thane and Nora whirling around to look behind them. What seems like half the crowd’s advancing on them.

“Ash! Cover me!” Nora shouts. “Thane, Miranda, stay back!” _Ka **boom** **!**_ The sound of Ashley’s shotgun accompanies Nora flinging herself into the middle of the crowd, body gleaming with a barrier.

“I am **never** leaving the ship without armor again!” he hears Miranda yell. Her biotic energy flies past him, cracking open the armor of the nearest mercenary.

Ashley shouts in response, “The hell’d you leave without armor for in the first place?” He snorts. Shadows swallow him for an instant. The mercenary falls. Ashley darts past, shotgun booming again. He falls back, guarding Miranda. From here, he can keep an eye on Shepard and Ashley. Nora’s not… being particularly discrete. Biotics trail after her as she blocks gunfire, ducks beneath a wild swing, and slams a fist into someone’s stomach.

 _So that’s what she’s using her biotics for_ , he muses, tracking the merc’s trajectory through the air. Falling to one knee, he clicks together his Viper and takes aim. _Pting_. One down. _Pting_. Two. For a minute, the light refracts over his next target. His throat constricts, but he shakes it off and reminds himself, _They are concussive rounds._

“Eat shit!” Ashley’s voice disturbs his concentration. A glance tells him Nora and Ashley are back to back. Shockwaves of energy follow the exclamation, knocking the clump of mercs around them off balance. _Ka **BLAM**! Ka **BLAM**!_ Half a dozen fall. The remaining one stumbles, pulled backwards through the air by a concentrating Miranda.

T-ting. He takes another. Now the mercenaries are below half-strength. Two more charge him, or perhaps Miranda. It does not matter. They fall. Thane looks back to the battlefield in time to see Shepard throw herself bodily into three more like a biotic bowling ball. They all go down. One cracks their head on the pavement. Shepard grapples with the others on her knees, barely dodging one punch and taking a glancing blow to her face. The one closer to him takes two concussive rounds before they go down. One remains, bringing their pistol up and into Shepard’s face. It never discharges. Instead, Nora wraps her hand around it and crushes the barrel.

His attention slides to Ashley again. Even without any biotics, she holds her own well. One side of her mouth drips blood as she slams her hand, palm up, into a nose. The person goes down, gurgling. Just in time for her to spin and take another out with a gut shot. Three remain standing. He takes one. Ashley charges another, and Shepard bounces onto her feet in time to block the shot fired. “Fuck you, Shepard!” a man’s voice cries as Ashley takes her target down.

For a minute, Thane wonders if time has stopped. Neither Ashley nor Nora moves. Then Ashley blinks. “Shit, that sounds like —”

Nora’s voice pierces the sudden silence like his rifle might. “ _Toombs_? What — what?” She’s clearly at a loss for words. Last man standing, just on the edge of middle age, snarls at her.

“Yeah, it’s me. Fuck! Do you know how long it took me to find people willing to come after you?” he spits. “Now they’re all dead!” Nora blinks. Thane glances around. He can’t say _all_ of them were non-lethal, but he was.

“Not all,” he rumbles, standing and disassembling his rifle. The man jerks toward him, eyes wide. “Some yet live.” Miranda peers over his shoulder, curious.

“Why would you come after me, Chris?” Nora asks, her voice soft and surprisingly vulnerable. “I haven’t done anything —”

“Bullshit, you Cerberus _bitch!”_ the man roars. “The hell kind of game are you playing? And don’t call me Chris like you have some right to my damn name! I’m surprised you even remember it. After all, it hasn’t even been three years since you found me on Ontarom. And here you are, waltzing around with that logo, like you don’t give a damn!”

He stops for a second, breathing heavily. Thane moves, eyes never leaving this… man. _Anger leads to rash decisions_ , he thinks, planting himself not far from Shepard. She tries to speak. ‘Toombs’ runs roughshod over that. “They tested me, turned me into a goddamn lab rat, and it was all torture! You — you said you understood!” He steps forward, eyes wild. “Apparently all you understood is how to be a liar. Now you’re teaming up with them like they’re any other merc band!”

“Toombs —” she finally gets in. He speaks louder.

“I wish LC Vasquez could see you now, _**traitor!”**_

  
\- - -

  
Miranda hangs back, eyes wide, and watches. Nora hasn’t gotten a word in yet. _Traitor_ rings in the air like morbid Christmas bells, neither the strange soldier nor Nora moving. He’s breathing heavy, face red. Miranda’s not even sure Shepard’s alive, her body perfectly still.

Finally, — “Fuck you, and the fucking horse you rode in on, _Chris_.” Nora takes a step forward. “They ran tests on you? They made you feel like a lab rat? _Did they?_ That’s fucking child’s play compared to the shit they did to me.” He snarls, moves to say something, but she’s not done. “Did you hear about me ‘falling off the radar’? Did you? Did you wonder what happened?”

Silence for a minute. “Clearly, you were working with _them_ ,” Toombs spits.

 ** _“I WAS FUCKING DEAD!”_** It’s the loudest she’s ever heard Nora, voice echoing off the buildings. “You want to talk about what they did to you? I woke up, and _almost nothing_ of my original body is left. My forearms are metal! My left femur doesn’t exist! They didn’t even leave my original amp in!” He blinks. She rampages on. “I was _dead_. I was **with** LC Vasquez. I was peaceful, and at home, and they _ripped me away from it_. Don’t you _dare_ come in here, trying to kill me, for working with Cerberus. I don’t —” she shudders, her whole body consumed by it. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be.”

This time, the silence is deafening. He breaks it with a small, very quiet, “Then why are you still with them?”

Miranda watches Shepard carefully, waiting for her answer. “I have a mission,” Nora replies. “It’s not Alliance-sanctioned, no. But it’s not wrong.” The two ex-soldiers stand and stare at each other. Unconscious bodies, or corpses, litter the street around them. “Get out of here, Chris. Please.”

He backs away, eyes on Nora. When he’s out of gunfire range, he breaks into a run. Shepard watches him go. Miranda’s never seen her look so tired.

  
\- - -

  
“Ah… Mr. Moreau,” a voice comes from behind his chair. His eyebrows almost hide under his hat.

“What’s up, ‘randa?” he asks, swiveling about. She’s standing there, looking terribly awkward.

“I was… you see…” she sighs and drags a hand down her face. “Nora, ah, she might be in need of a…” He’s figured it out already. But he lets her stammer on. “There was an incident. It may have… taken a toll…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t worry.” He flops a hand at her. “If I don’t go, Tali will. I’d send Garrus, but I think someone shoved the stick back up his ass. Haven’t seen him all day.”

“…thank you, Mr. Moreau.” She turns to leave.

He calls after her, “Hey! It’s Joker.” Her steps halt for a second, but no more.

  
\- - -

“Okay. Something happened on Omega, and Shepard is… hiding in her room. Great.” Tali sighs. “Is this what I was recruited for? I could have sworn it was ships. And engineering. You know, _normal_ quarian things.” Nonetheless, she sends a message back to Joker. _I’ll go up in a minute._

And she does. Pit stop on the way to raid the dining hall, and then straight up. “EDI?” she asks the ceiling. “Could you ask Shepard to let me in?”

“Of course, Tali’zorah vas Neema,” the computer answers. Tali has to huff.

“You can call me Tali, or if you really must, Miss Zorah. I’m hardly going to require you to say my full name _all_ the time.” Just then, the elevator doors open. EDI doesn’t answer. Hopefully, she’ll just take it under consideration. And clearly the computer did as asked. The door opens as she approaches. “Shepard?”

“Hey, Tali,” the commander calls back. “Come in.” She enters, a little nervous. She was privy to one of Nora’s outbursts on the original Normandy, when the Council was stonewalling them. Her room had been a mess. No such thing this time, though. Instead, Shepard’s lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “What’s up?”

“I… heard you had a problem on Omega?” Tali ventures, voice tentative. “I didn’t know what happened, so I brought mess hall chocolate and a listening ear.” She’s not expecting Shepard to laugh.

“Thanks for the thought, Tali. I’m…” Nora sits, runs a hand over her head and face, and looks over at her. “Did whatever snoop sent you tell you anything?” Almost as an afterthought, she pats the bed.

As she steps forward and sits down near the end of the bed, she murmurs, “Not exactly. The exact message was…” She opens her omnitool and reads, “Quarian cutie, everyone’s favorite commander came back from Omega looking like thunder. Not it.”

Immediately, Nora’s eyes go flat, only a sliver of white and iris peeking out from under the eyelids. “Jeff. Should have known.”

She has to laugh at the expression. “I’m not sure it was entirely him. He followed it up with, _And our resident hottie might murder me if nobody does something. If you can find Garrus, make him do it._ ” And then, because Nora could use the laugh, “He followed that with a dozen smiling devil faces.”

Nora does crack a grin. “I think Garrus is trying to find a date, honestly,” she murmurs. “I haven’t seen him since… the other night, when he was my inside person at Afterlife.” She leans forward, arms dangling as she rests her arms on her knees. “Sorry you got stuck with Shepard duty, Tali.”

This time, _she_ laughs. “Please. Like it’s a chore? I’ve been looking for time to come talk to you anyway. Now, I have an excuse, and I get to spend time with you.” She pauses and hums. “What’s the human expression? Fake a cake and eat it, too?”

An utterly awful sound comes from Nora. “Have your cake, and eat it too,” she corrects her. “Do you really want to know what happened on Omega?” Tali nods, drawing her legs closer to her body. “It was… do you remember when we went to Ontarom?”

“I wasn’t on the ground with that mission, but yes. I remember. There was somebody from your squad there?” She pauses, realizes how that sounds, and hurries to add, “Someone from your old squad, I mean.”

“Someone from Akuze, yes.” Shepard’s gaze grows distant. “Evidently he thought I was being traitorous by working for Cerberus. I don’t disagree. But I’m not about to let someone kill me for something I’m only doing because I have no other options.”

“Do you feel like a traitor?” Tali wonders out loud.

“Yes, and no. I mean, clearly the Alliance thought I was batshit, or they wouldn’t have let the Council send me to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.” Nora leans her head on her arms, hair falling around her legs. Tali spares a thought for how _strange_ it looks, darker than usual, and then lets her gaze return to Nora’s face. “But they’re… I might have been getting ready to retire. But Alliance once, Alliance forever. I wish I didn’t have to work with Cerberus.”

Tali hums softly. “I understand. I… the only reason the fleet let me leave, transferred me to the Normandy, is because it was you. You’re…” She scrunches up her shoulders for a second and drops them. “Honestly, you’re very frustratingly moral sometimes. Yes, you have these fits where you’re mean, or you blow more stuff up than usual. But everyone knows what Spectres _could_ be, and what they usually are. Nihlus was one of the better ones. No undue cruelty, careful operations — really, there’s a reason there are so many turian Spectres. Saren is… more like the rest of the Spectres than the Council wants anyone to admit. The admiralty board knows you as a good Spectre. Not a bad one. And I don’t think working with Cerberus has changed that.”

Shepard turns her head, chin resting on her arms still, and stares down Tali for a solid minute. “But what if coming back from the dead did?” she says. Her voice barely reaches Tali’s hearing.

“It didn’t. You’re you, Shepard. Nora Katherine Shepard, a gigantic pain in every Reaper’s… whatever they have, the person who sent Ambassador Udina into fits, and talked Khalisah al-Jilani into thinking all sorts of wonderful things about you.” Tali pauses and ponders. “Actually… I don’t think Ambassador Udina even got that glowing of a review. Maybe you should take his job?”

“ _Pfffbt_!” Nora dissolves into laughter. After a moment, she sobers, and opens her mouth to speak. Tali never gets to hear what she has to say, though. EDI’s voice echoes through the room at that very instant.

“Commander, you have a visitor. Captain Aria of the SSV Kennedy would like to speak with you.” Shepard bolts up, eyes wide.

“Seriously?”

“I do not joke, Commander.”

Tali almost expects to hear Joker’s voice next, saying, _No, that’s me!_ It doesn’t come. Instead, Shepard calls out, “Send her up. Have Jacob escort her.”

  
\- - -

  
Jacob refrains from dancing when EDI informs him, “The commander would like you to escort Captain Aria to her quarters.” It’s a close thing. But he refrains.

“Of course,” he answers instead. “Is she at the airlock?”

“Yes, Operative Taylor.” And then EDI blips away. He leaves, strapping a gun to his hip for show. When he gets to the airlock, Joker’s sitting, facing out the doors with a gleeful grin.

“What… what are you doing?” Jacob asks, eyebrows high.

“What am I doing? Dude, what am I doing?” Joker answers. “Captain Aria is about to come through that airlock. I don’t know if you’ve heard the same rumors I have, but I heard she’s a six foot tall sex goddess with flaming hair and —”

Whatever else the captain is rumored to have gets drowned beneath the hiss of the airlock. “Ex-Marine Taylor. I see you keep auspicious company,” the captain greets him, stepping inside. She glances to her left and blinks. “Flight Lieutenant Moreau. Interesting.”

“This way, Captain,” he tells her, stepping aside and letting her go slightly ahead. “The commander’s waiting for you in her quarters.” She sniffs and nods dismissively. Kelly turns from her place at the terminal beside the CIC and watches, eyes wide, as they board the elevator.

Literally half a second after the doors close, Aria opens her omnitool and a ripple of electricity washes over him. “You have a minute and a half. Talk,” she hisses.

He talks, fitting as much as he can in as few words as possible. It’s all things too secure to mention over public channels. He finishes seven and a half seconds before EDI comes back online in the elevator. “Operative Taylor?”

“I’m here, EDI. What’s up?” he asks, genial as can be.

“I lost connection to this elevator for a moment. Is everything alright?” Aria twitches her nose at him.

He answers, “Yeah, peachy. Want me to ask Tali to check your circuits?”

“That would be appreciated.” And then EDI goes quiet as the doors slide open.

“Here you are, the Commander’s cabin. I’m going to stay out here.” The captain looks… rather surprised.

“You trust me enough to leave me alone with your commander?” she asks, one hand going up to run through her hair.

Jacob snorts. “Go ahead and try attacking her, if you want. But I feel bad for you if you do.” Aria’s eyebrows go up before she belts out a laugh.

“Do you?” She offers him a cocky half-smile. “There is a reason I was the hero of Elysium.” The doors open behind her, so she turns and spins on her heel, entering.

He lets the doors shut before he mutters, “Alright. Whatever. Get your dumb ass kicked.”

  
\- - -

  
Nora’s standing, parade rest, at the bottom of the stairs when Captain Aria enters. She’s seen the same holos everyone else has, despite trying to avoid them. Elysium came under attack not long before her own… adventure… on Akuze. She knows how the Alliance twists things.

Still, she’s surprised by the captain. Bright red hair, cropped short, contrasts with the black garb infiltrators favor. Beneath the thin armor, Nora can see the muscles in her arms and legs. And _boy,_ are there a lot. “Commander. Nice to finally meet you,” Aria greets her, walking farther in. “I have to say, this is far more decadent than what I have on the Kennedy.” Nora can’t place her accent. It’s odd.

“What can I say? Apparently rogue cells have a lot of money to throw around,” Nora replies, voice dry. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain.” She snaps off her crispest salute. Whatever she expects, it’s not for Aria to burst into a throaty laugh.

“Saluting me? And you are not even real Alliance right now?” she chuckles, the emotion stretching the scars on her face. “You have more respect for me than half the ensigns I am sent for the Kennedy.”

“I’m assuming they find respect rather quickly?” Shepard asks, backing up and extending a hand. “Have a seat.” Tali’s sitting on the couch, looking very prim and quarian. “I apologize. I wasn’t able to send my engineer away before you came.”

Aria descends the stairs and glances at Tali. Standing next to the captain, Nora finds herself **horrendously** jealous. The other woman’s at least six foot tall. Probably taller, judging by how close she comes to being Garrus’ height. “It is not a problem. Is your engineer a friend, or…?”

Tali stands and offers her hand. “Tali’zorah vas Neema. A pleasure to meet you. I have not had the chance to meet a lot of Alliance outside of Shepard, Ashley, and… well, the original crew of the original Normandy.” The glance Tali darts at Shepard makes her sure the quarian’s heard about Kaidan.

“Ah, you are the quarian engineer Adams complained about,” Aria comments, wry smile on her face. “He came to my ship for a little while, in case you were curious. But, if you do not mind, this is something you may wish to have a friend present for.” Nora tilts her head. “It concerns the original Normandy.”

Nora nods. “And?”

Aria sighs. “We have located the ship, we believe. It is actually within this nebula.” She removes a chip from her belt and holds it out, catching Nora’s gaze with her own. For a minute, the piercing teal holds her still. “Here are the coordinates. An Alliance ship will be going there shortly to… place a memorial and do salvage. I thought you might appreciate stopping there first.”

“Why?” Nora asks, extending her hand. The chip drops, tinkling against the armor plates on the inside of her gloves. “What could I gain from going back to where I died?”

“Closure, I would assume. If nothing else, it might be therapeutic to put old ghosts to rest.” Aria’s eyes go from warm teal to icy sea and back in an instant, her jaw clenching. “The past likes to linger sometimes.”

“…thank you.” Shepard breathes out and closes her hand around the chip. “Who sent you? Hackett?”

“Ah, ah, ah, classified,” Aria hums. “I cannot answer that question. You are an N7 as well. You should know how this works by now.”

Nora rolls her eyes, but nods. “If it was the old man, tell him… I don’t know. Tell him I still can’t stand him.”

Aria laughs again, the sound pleasant and warm. Nora can’t keep her eyes from the scars — both are huge. One straight down the middle of her left cheek, starting just below her eye, and the other starting at her left ear and ending barely over her nose. Every time the captain smiles, they stretch, and the laughter only makes it more so. “Good. He is an arrogant man, but not without reason. I, too, am arrogant. But arrogance comes with ability.” The laughter fades from her eyes and they grow serious. “Speaking of ability, thank you. I have been hunting Toombs. It is what brought me here. He hacked confidential information in order to find you. Now he has no mercenaries to hide behind.”

When the captain smiles this time, her teeth show, just a bit. It’s the most predatory thing Nora’s ever seen outside of a hunting turian. Unexpected chills race down her spine. “Ah… you’re welcome?” she offers, voice weak.

“I should go. Good luck with the Collectors, Shepard. Some of us believed you in 2183. Not enough, but some.” With that, the tall woman stalks away. Nora catches a glimpse of Jacob waiting outside before the door closes.

Neither she nor Tali move for… she doesn’t know how long. Finally, she turns toward the quarian, movements glacial. Tali’s looking at her, the little white lights behind her helmet big. “…are you going to go, Nora?” she wonders, voice gently reverent.

Unfurling her fingers, Nora looks down at the chip in her hand. “I… I think I have to,” she whispers. _Adelio’s… I finally, really said goodbye. I don’t know what’s left in the Normandy to say goodbye to. But I have to._

  
\- - -

  
“Hey, fuckhead, what’re you doing in here? You’re not in the brandy like normal people would be,” Garrus hears from behind him.

“Hi, Jack,” he sighs. “I’m thinking.”

“Really? Kinda just looks like you’re staring at Omega like a tit,” she tells him. Bottles clink. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her moving around by the bar. “Any particular reason?”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t move his gaze from the station as the Normandy pulls away. “…I’m leaving, and I shouldn’t be,” he mutters. It’s barely loud enough for his subharmonics to register the words coming out and attach emotion. She hears.

“Well, yeah. You’re on the goddamn Normandy. Did you think we were sticking around?” Footsteps behind him. She throws herself onto the couch, within his line of sight, and tips back her glass. “What, are you leaving behind some prime turian ass?”

He expected that. He just shakes his head. Omega becomes smaller, and smaller, and he finally speaks up. “I left my team behind on Omega.”

“And Shepard didn’t offer to take them along? She’s the biggest damn Girl Scout in the galaxy with that shit,” Jack laughs. Another sip of her drink. He turns his head and pins her with his gaze.

“They’re dead.” He lets a beat pass before he adds, “It’s my fault.”

Her eyes slide over to him in that odd way humans have before she sits up. “I’m callin’ bull on that. I’ve never met a turian one who wasn’t good at two things, if nothing else. One of them is tactics. Probably just a shitty situation got really, _really_ shitty. I know all about that.”

“It wasn’t that,” he snaps. If it was anyone else, he’d regret it after. Jack doesn’t care, just sips at her drink and watches him. “I trusted someone I shouldn’t have.”

She nods and settles back into the couch. “Been there, done that. It’s not your fault when shit like that happens.” He huffs derisively. She goes on anyway. “Listen, whoever that fuck was, it was either accidental **or** they went into it planning it. People like that get their rocks off from tricking people. All you can do is kick their skull in, or bend their spurs, or whatever.” She takes a bigger swig. “I fucking love getting revenge on people who know they deserve it. You get to do bad things and you’re completely justified. Who’s going to say something?”

“Nora, probably,” he mumbles. Again, she hears it and laughs.

“Nah. She’s a Girl Scout, but she did just do that whole… whatever… with Samara. She’s got the whole glass house shtick going on.” Jack squints. “I think I got that metaphor wrong. Fuck. What did I mix my drink with?”

“The blue bottle is Batarian rum. You, I think, thought it was Noverian. That’s the teal bottle,” Kasumi’s voice comes out of nowhere. “You’ll start vomiting shortly.”

“Jesus fuck, ‘sumi, you could have stopped me!” Jack swears, jolting up from her seat and wobbling towards the door.

“I was curious about — Garrus, what are you doing?” He’s on his feet, staring again. Then he spins and heads for the door.

“We’re not going towards the relay. I don’t know what Joker’s doing,” he growls, bolting for the elevator.

“What — what do you mean — oh, shit! We’re really nooooot!” he hears Jack shout. It’s followed by retching sounds. He pauses and turns — but no, Thane’s coming out of Life Support, looking curious.

When he reaches the CIC and sprints for the cockpit, the crewmembers about stare at him oddly. He even hears Nastaran comment, “Who lit a fire under his ass?”

Cockpit doors opening, he demands before he’s even inside, “Joker, what are you…” Nora turns from where she’s standing beside the pilot’s chair, one hand on the back.

“Garrus?” she asks. It’s oddly sobering to be one word.

“Why aren’t we going to the relay? I thought we were going to Ilium for work on the shielding,” he mumbles, glancing around the cockpit.

“We were. I had us change course.” She turns back, her hand still on the chair.

“…where to?”

Her head cranes toward him. “My grave.”

  
\- - -

 

“You’re not going down there alone, Shepard!” Ashley shouts. She doesn’t have much height on Shepard, but she uses every inch of it. “Holy balls, that’s the king of bad ideas!”

“Ashley.” Shepard looks at her, dark eyes cold. “I’m going. Don’t make me have you detained.”

“Detained? By who?” she sputters. Nora just looks at her.

“This is for me, Ash. Let it be.” And something about the way her eyes reflect, something she knows she’ll _never_ be able to explain to anyone, makes Ashley stand down.

“…fine. You get in trouble, though, I’m sending Garrus to save you. And we all know how he bitches about the cold.”

  
\- - -

  
Soft snow, the weight and consistency of powdered sugar, flutters about as she opens the shuttle hatch. Even from inside her suit, she can tell how cold it is. On Earth, the snow is only ever this way when it’s below zero. She steps out —

and falls. “Oof!” It’s not a hard fall. The snow’s not damp enough to pack into a solid mass. That means she just fell into a solid half-meter of snow, face first. For the first time ever outside of battle, she’s grateful for her helmet. “Great start,” she grumbles, struggling to her feet. “Of course we don’t have snowshoes on the Normandy. Why would we need them?” The damn stuff is up past her knees. Nonetheless, she clomps forward.

Beneath the snow, she can feel little pockets that the weight of the snow hasn’t turned into solid mass yet. She tries to avoid those, but still stumbles more than once. It’s when she falls to her knees for the seventh time she finds the first set of dog tags. When she falls, something solid meets her hands. “What?” she mumbles, and eschews standing up for pawing at the snow.

Carlton Tucks stares up at her, face half-uncovered. Despite singe marks, a missing ear, and the frost, he’s recognizable. And he’s preserved. She swallows, barely breathing. “Sorry, Carl,” she mumbles, wishing she could close his eyes. They’re frozen open. But she can take his tags, so she does.

After that, she pays more attention, kicking the snow around and turning the crash site into an eddying whirlwind of snow. She finds more bodies. Hector Emerson, the person in charge of custodial duties. Addison Chase, the best scanner technician she’s ever known. She doesn’t find Pressly’s body. She finds his tags, and one of his datapads, but not him. When she comes to the remains of the cockpit, nearly two dozen dog tags dangling from her hands, it’s… a strange feeling.

Walking inside, she turns her head and finds the spot where Falawa threw his ration bar once and it stuck in the wiring. Ahead, she can see the breach. The place. The _place_.

She doesn’t even realize she’s moved, that she’s standing under it, until she’s looking up at the sky. The night — or was it day? — comes back in flashes.

_Joker. Obstinate. Always._

_Pressly. Burnt. Gone._

_Liara. Leaving._

  
\- - -

  
“I’m going after her,” Garrus decides after he, Tali, Ashley, and Joker stare at the same view from Shepard’s suit camera for twenty minutes. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Uh, no. If anyone’s going, it’s me,” Ashley interjects. “Hello? Actually died?”

Joker snorts. “By rights, I should probably go. I was the reason she died. But there’s not an exosuit on the ship that fits me.”

While the others squabble, Tali slips out. “EDI,” she whispers. “Can Cailin bring the shuttle back?”

EDI’s answer seems hushed in response. “Of course. She’ll be here momentarily.”

“And lock those _idiots_ in the cockpit. **Don’t** let them out. The last thing she needs is a turian who can’t deal with the cold, a soldier who might have flashbacks in the middle of that place, and a pilot who can’t even link suits without getting broken.”

She might be imagining it, but there’s amusement in EDI’s voice. “Permission obtained from XO Lawson. Cockpit locked.”

While she waits on the shuttle, she climbs into heavier armor. Her exosuit is good for extreme temperatures to a point, but Alchera is bitterly cold. By the time she’s dressed, Cailin’s waiting. And then, just as the shuttle takes off, her omnitool lights up with a video call. She answers, curious. Garrus, Ashley, and Joker are all crammed into the tiny rectangle. They all look upset.

“EDI said it’s your fault we’re locked in here, Tali,” Joker starts. “Care to exp — hey!” Ashley shoves him to the side, gently, and peers into the camera.

“She’s on the shuttle!” the soldier snaps. “That’s why she locked us in here.”

“Yes, and no,” Tali gets in before Garrus or Joker can talk. “I locked you in there for very good reasons. None of you are subtle. None of you could handle that planet. Garrus would freeze to death. Ashley, _you_ probably have… I don’t remember the human term, but flashbacks in the middle of Alchera would not help Shepard. And Joker… we’re not going there. If I had a week, I couldn’t list all the reasons you couldn’t come.”

They all start talking at once, words overlapping. Some of them are not very polite. “I’m already almost on the planet surface! Go argue about something else!” she snaps, ending the call. A few seconds on her omnitool disable the camera in her hardsuit, and a little longer turns off Shepard’s.

  
\- - -

  
Honestly, she’s not surprised to hear footsteps. Nora figured someone would come down. She turns, expecting Ashley. Instead, Tali’s standing there, looking around the ruins of the ship. “It really is like a graveyard,” she remarks. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sad about a ship.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Nora sighs. Tali walks closer, bulky armor clacking.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay. But…” the quarian shrugs. “I know what it’s like, a little bit, to feel like you’re out of place, and it’s all your fault.” She looks away. “You had Joker survive. I had Kal.” It’s a bad analogy, but not entirely.

Together, they look up at the sky, snow drifting down around them. “It’s not even…” Nora sighs, letting her shoulders slump in. “It’s kind of like a graveyard for all my hopes, too. This is where I thought I’d serve until the end of 2183. Then I’d retire, go do something other than destroy. And then it was where I thought I could save the galaxy. And then, I thought it might be somewhere I could find a little bit of peace…” She closes her eyes. Liara flickers across the back of her eyelids. “The last time I saw this place, it was drifting away. And I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move… but I was okay with it.”

“And?” Tali prompts. Shepard opens her eyes.

“The very last thing I saw… was the sunrise over the edge of Alchera.” Her voice shakes, she knows it’s shaking, and she doesn’t care. “I thought… I thought… _Finally, I can have some peace_.” When tears come this time, it’s almost a relief. She didn’t know they would. “I know I’m selfish for wanting it back. But I’m not brave enough to do anything about it.

Tali doesn’t say anything. She steps closer and wraps one arm around Shepard’s waist. “I don’t think it’s selfish, Nora,” she finally tells her after they stand for a moment. “I think you’re tired, and you want to rest. Nobody blames you.”

“Thank you, Tali.”

  
\- - -

  
Miranda’s watching the feed, too. When it cuts out, she knows what Tali’s done. What Tali doesn’t know is there are separate audio receivers in Shepard’s suit, outside of the ones used for the camera, and the comms. While the comms might work, they’re two-way. The last thing she needs is for Nora to hear her breathing down her neck. So she turns on the audio receivers and listens.

When the last bit of Shepard’s thank you fades away, her hands are shaking. She doesn’t know what to do with her body. First she moves to rest her face in her hands — but no. Then she thinks, _Perhaps if I — no_. Miranda ends up sitting on her bed, shaking violently. “What have I done?” she asks the air. “What have I done?”

  
\- - -

  
EDI lets them out of the cockpit when the shuttle takes off, Tali and Nora both aboard. Both Ashley and Garrus nearly trip over themselves to get to the shuttle bay. When Nora comes out, he expects her to look fragile, shaken — that would be a normal reaction.

Rather than that, she looks… fine. She’s pale, but it’s the kind of pale that comes with cold. When she goes to leave, he grabs her shoulder and mumbles, “Are you — I mean — did you —”

“I’m fine, Garrus. Thank you,” she mutters, smiling at him. It’s sad, and wistful. But it’s still a smile. “I’m going to talk to Samara. I’ll see you later.” He watches her go, entirely confused.

 _Thwap!_ Tali’s hand collides with the back of his neck. “You are so besotted,” she tells him when he turns around, scowling. “This is worse than _Fleet and Flotilla_. At least I know how that’s going to end.”

“Wait, what?” Ashley asks. He groans.

  
\- - -

  
They pull into Ilium a day and a half later. Nora’s spent that time talking with every crew member on board, swaddled in her warmest clothing. She knows them, yes, but she doesn’t know them well enough. At least, that's her justification. Kasumi watches her walk out of the dining hall with Xander Woods, engaged in riveting conversation about a movie they both hated, and sighs. “Well, last shot, I suppose,” and drops down in front of Jack. They’re the only two left in the hall. “Jack?”

Said woman jumps, sending her plate flying across the table. Kasumi neatly dodges as she materializes. “Jesus fuck, ‘sumi, normal people don’t do that!”

“I hope I am never a normal person. Too boring!” Kasumi drawls. “But, Jack. I have a favor.” She pauses and eyes Miranda’s door. “Let’s… adjourn to your… hiding place. There may be unwelcome ears about here.” The tattooed woman blinks, raises her eyebrows, and shrugs.

“Okay. It’s not like I can’t punt you through the wall, anyway.” Several minutes later, safely ensconced below decks, Jack stretches out and asks, “What’s the deal?”

Kasumi pauses. She’s tried to word it delicately to the others. Jack… is not delicate. “You probably already suspect, but the Illusive Man **is** behind Shepard’s resurrection. It wasn’t a rogue cell.” Jack answers with a sound of derision. “Ah. You suspected. I see. But… there’s a problem. Miranda was the one who oversaw the project.”

Jack springs up off her bed like a bat out of hell. _**“What?**_ Shit! Fuck! Are you seriously — Jesus Christ, that’s fucking sick! Make Doctor damn Frankenstein the XO of the ship? I knew Cerberus was disgusting, but that’s just… ugh!”

She blinks. It’s the most extreme reaction she’s seen yet. “Well… I’m not sure I see that, but I don’t think it’s right Shepard doesn’t know.”

“Well, yeah, it’s not fuckin’ right.” Jack’s pacing now. “But I mean, seriously? How do you not see that? It’s like Stockholm syndrome, except infinitely more fucked in the head. Never thought that was possible, let me fuckin’ tell you. ‘Oh, hey, we brought you back to life! Be best friends with the cunt that did it! Never mind that none of those medical procedures had your consent, and you’re a cyborg now!’”

“…oh.” Kasumi watches Jack pace. Suddenly, the biotic rounds on her.

“This is shitty as hell, but what do I have to do with it? Why did you tell _me_?” she demands, jabbing her finger into Kasumi’s face. Kasumi leans back, gently pushing the finger away.

“I don’t think I’m the right person to tell Shepard. Ashley… may have Cerberus loyalty software. Garrus, Joker, and Tali all think it better Shepard doesn’t know.” And this time, she lets her disdain for that notion drip from her voice.

“Oh, right. Because Shepard’s such a fucking fainting daisy? I mean, fuck, we _literally_ just came back from _her damn_   _grave_. All she did was ask for hot cocoa!” Jack turns away and kicks through a crate, foot gleaming with biotics. “Let me guess, you want me to break the news?”

“I thought it might be best. After all, you have a… unique perspective on Cerberus. And on revenge.” With that, Kasumi lets herself think, _If this doesn’t work, I’ll just tell her myself._

“Send me any files you have on this fuckery. She’s going to need to see it to believe it,” Jack snarls, pacing again. “Shit!”

Kasumi disappears.

  
\- - -

Grunt’s itching itching itching for a fight. It’s been too long since he felt skulls cave beneath his fist, heard the beautiful blare of his shotgun, too long. For a little while, the tiny redhead in the CIC helped distract him. She helped him sort out the data coursing through his brain. But now it’s all organized. There’s nothing else to do.

“Hey, kiddo,” comes the mercenary’s voice from the door. “We’re on Ilium. Not a good place for fights, not like Omega, but I know a place. I can sign you up. You’ll crush the competition, get a little peace, and I’ll get a few credits from it. Sound good?”

He breathes out. “Hell yeah.”

  
\- - -

  
As always, Mordin is absorbed in something in his lab. Samara watches him for a moment before she speaks. “Doctor Solus, might I have a word?”

“Of course. You can even have five, ten, twenty. Have a few spare moments,” the doctor answers, looking up at her and blinking. “Problems? Asari biology a specialty. Actually, everything a specialty.”

She smiles and tilts her head forward. “Not me. I have noticed a peculiarity in the commander.”

Before she gets any further, he interrupts. “Well, yes. Commander very peculiar. Part of charm. Also severely mentally ill, but treated. Depression should lessen soon.”

“Not like that, doctor.” Samara pauses. “She… has an unusual amount of biotic power for a human. For any human. Such a thing is not the true oddity. Young Jack also wields great power, though she does not yet understand it comes with great responsibility.” Shuffling closer, she lowers her voice and murmurs, “Shepard’s power has only _grown_ since I have taken ship. This… does not happen.”

Mordin abruptly stills. “Elaborate.”

“It is within the power of any good biotic to gauge the power of others. When I came aboard at Ilium before, there was power in her. Nothing truly unusual. Jack beat her easily.” She hesitates. “But she meditates with me on occasion, and I have noticed… a shift. She does not need an amplifier for some of the things she does now. Morinth attempted to attack her while we were eliminating her, and Shepard barely noticed.”

“Interesting. Will have Shepard come in for samples. Can tell her it’s simply procedure, to see how implants are behaving.” Mordin frowns. “Very odd indeed. Have never heard of this before, in any human. Nor asari, turians, etcetera. Red sand, perhaps? No. EDI would signal such drug use. _Hmm_!”

He turns away, but she stops him again with a soft, “Mordin. I am not here for Shepard only. There is turmoil in you, is there not?”

His haughty sniff tells her what she needs to know. “Turmoil? Ha. Salarians process quickly. No time for turmoil. Must finish _research!_ Grunt needs new gun, Tali’zorah brought interesting technological thoughts, might be able to upgrade omnitools… Too much to do!”

“I am always a listening ear if you are ready to talk,” she tells him. Then she turns and leaves.

  
\- - -

  
“ _Keelah_ , I’m glad you’re not hiding in your room again,” Tali sighs as they step from the airlock. Thane and Jacob follow after. Thane doesn’t look like he’s listening. Jacob doesn’t bother trying to look like he’s not. “I mean, really. You’ve spent more time in your room since I got here than… I don’t know. Is this normal? Is this what humans like doing? Hiding in their rooms?”

“Tali, you’re mean,” Nora sighs back. There’s no rancor in the words. “Some of us, yes. Others prefer to go get smashed and flirt, or just… spend time around people. I’m not much on people. Never have been.”

Tali has to giggle at that. “You’re not a people person? Pardon me, I thought I was talking to Shepard. It’s not like you don’t have a ship full of loyal people, or like the first Normandy wasn’t full of people who would die for you.”

“More fools they.” They fall silent for a minute, picking their way through the crowded markets. When they pass a technology stall, Tali eyes it longingly.

“So… where are we going?” she asks, steepling her fingers.

“To… find some information.” Shepard’s eyes shift side to side. “Eh, I might as well tell you. I’m going to see Liara. She’s…” She breathes in and blows the air out slowly. “She’s an information broker here. I don’t remember if I told you.”

“Dr. T’soni holds many secrets, and holds them well,” Thane rumbles from behind them. “For someone so young, and with such little experience, she holds her power well.” After that, they all go quiet until they reach Liara’s office.

  
\- - -

  
Nyxeris dispatched, there’s nobody to stop Nora. She shoos the others away and slips inside Liara’s office. The lights are low. Liara’s sitting in her chair, curled up. “Not now, Nyx — ah. Yes.” She looks up. “Nora. I don’t have…” A sigh slips from her. “What do you need?”

“I need to talk to you,” she says, stepping closer. “Listen. I —”

“I am not going to apologize for leaving our romance behind, Nora. It was not… I was not who you need,” Liara says, standing. Nora can see the effort she expends to stand straight and tall.

She just nods. “I know. I want to apologize. I…” She inhales. “I was looking for a reason to live. I wanted someone who’d make life feel worthwhile again. And I — you were there.” Shepard crosses her arms and lets her shoulders sink in. “It’s not that I don’t have affection for you, Liara. But it’s not… You aren’t a replacement for Adelio. That’s… that’s who I wanted you to be.”

Stress leaks from Liara’s shoulders the longer Nora speaks. “Yes, but — I — how? I know you are intelligent, but to see you come to this realization…”

Nora leans her head back, desperately trying not to let tears leak. “I went to my grave.” She hears Liara’s inhale, but continues. “So much snow. So many bodies, and none of them mine. None of them yours. I realize I wanted you to live because you deserved better than me, not because of how much I loved you.” She swallows and drops her head back to her chest. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I loved you because you were convenient, and somehow, I thought it was the other way around.”

“Oh, _mohapri_ ,” Liara breathes. She’s halfway across the floor already. “I hold no grudge. You didn’t even realize it.” She steps closer, eyes soft, and brushes her fingers against Nora’s cheek. Her skin’s ridiculously soft and cool, as always. “Maybe there will be a some day… but there is no some day today,” she quotes, smile wistful.

Nora laughs, just a bit. “Of course you’re quoting _Galactic Love_ at me. I should have expected it.” She almost expects it, but not entirely. The kiss is soft, sweet, and entirely Liara. She lets her eyes drift shut, just for a second, and drifts off. When the asari pulls away, she’s ready. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“No. Thank you,” Liara tells her, leaning her forehead against Nora’s. “You should go. Tali will surely buy out Ilium if you don’t watch her.”

“Hopefully Jacob — _shit_. I bet five bucks I can’t find Jacob when I get out of here. Womanizer,” she mumbles, the term almost affectionate.

“I will… speak to you later? A message?” Liara calls after her. She nods, focused on walking away. If Liara had said that — what? A month ago? It would have sent her over a black hole. Now, it’s just balm on a burn, the feeling strange and bittersweet.

  
\- - -

  
“Sergeant Gardner!” Miranda greets the chef, trying not to look suspicious. “I won’t be supplying you with the medicine for the commander any longer. It seems everything has settled into her body quite well.”

He grunts. “Good. Less work for me.”

She goes back to her office and collapses just inside her door. “I did it,” she breathes. “I disobeyed orders.” It’s exhilarating.

  
\- - -

  
Jack waits, and waits, and waits. When the doors finally open, she’s reading the datapad for the fifth time. “Jesus H, this is fucked,” she mumbles before she looks up. “Hey, Shepard. Got a minute?”

Nora raises an eyebrow. “Possibly. Are we blowing anything up, or is that for later?”

“Nah. Just thought I’d take my shirt off in front of you and see how long it takes to send you into a gibbering fit,” Jack answers, pushing off the wall. _Impressive_. It takes less than a half-second for Shepard’s face to go bright red, all the way up into the ears.

“I — you — Jack — what?” she squeaks.

“I’m kidding. Just got some shit you might like to hear about.” For emphasis, she waggles the datapad at the commander. “Can I come in, or do I have to leave the door open like it’s some middle school movie?”

Shepard’s still red. “I, uh, yeah. Go for it.” The door opens as she moves forward, steps wooden, and Jack follows. “What is it?” she asks, already discarding her armor and tossing it into a (mostly) orderly heap on the bed. “Did you find something interesting in the Cerberus files?”

For a minute, Jack stalls, watching Shepard peel out of her undersuit and accompanying tank for one less sweat-spotted. “Yeah. You could say that.” After she told Kasumi she’d do this, it really hit her. _This is the most fucked up thing ever._ Mostly. “So, uh, how much do you know about your resurrection?”

Sweaty shorts get kicked into a corner and replaced by a thin black skirt. “Not a lot. Rogue cell, went wild, hired Jeff and as many other people as they could get their hands on. I have a lot of technology in me. Replaced my amp, made me heal faster, etcetera. Why?” she asks, pulling a tee on over top of the tank.

“Yeah, uh, kinda turns out it wasn’t exactly a rogue cell. They did it on the Illusive Asshole’s orders, down to a man,” she explains, letting her voice go soft.

 _Snorting_. Shepard’s _**snorting.**_ “And?”

“…you knew?” Jack asks. “I mean, I kind of figured myself, but —”

“I kind of knew when the Normandy showed up, and then Jeff and Karin came with. You don’t crib the Alliance’s best pilot and one of their longest serving doctors without knowing about it.” She’s sifting through socks now, still talking. “Plus, how do you miss an entire ship being built on your dollar? One like this? Kind of a noticeable thing.”

“Oh.” Jack watches Nora pick apart the sock pile on the couch. Apparently nothing’s to her liking, since she stands and goes to her wardrobe. “Did you… I mean… Shit. Fuck.” Shepard glances over her shoulder, still poking through those _goddamn socks._ “Fucking Miranda was in charge of your resurrection!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I've noted it before, but I'm using naval rankings. Also, regarding the previous chapter: I'm not sure whether or not it's canon that turians don't dream. I'm stomping on that, as you can tell. 
> 
> Also also my fight scenes are not my favorite thing so if you feel like input on these, please do.


	11. No Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't want to think about it. So she won't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers Zaeed's loyalty mission and then some. Nora has a brief episode of disassociation. Ish. 
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long, if anyone is still waiting on it. My life... kind of imploded. My niece's father attacked my sister, I no longer have my best friends due to drama, and my depression decided this was the best time possible to kick me in the teeth, and the ovaries, and any other soft spots. 
> 
> Please, if you're reading this and you don't loathe it, I could really, really use some positive energy right now. Even if you want to criticize it, that would be appreciated.

Her own heartbeat echoes in her ears. She’s seen Nora go wild. Beyond wild. This won’t —

“Pffft. Right.” Nora glances over her shoulder and raises one eyebrow. “I know how you feel about Cerberus in general, and Miranda especially, but at least come up with a decent lie.”

She finally turns, black socks in hand, in time for Jack to start shouting. “Jesus fuck on a fuckin’ schooner, why the _hell_ would I lie about this? That’s — I’m not that goddamn fucked up!”

Unrolling the black sock, Nora mutters, “Miranda is XO. If you can plant reasonable doubt in me of her abilities or neutrality, she might get her rank knocked down. It’s not much of a secret I didn’t want to come back to life. Therefore, finding a cause related to such would be most likely to garner an emotional reaction.”

It’s logical, and cold, and everything Nora’s not. Jack loses her temper. A bit. She hurls the datapad at the bed. It lands with a satisfying _thump_! Not satisfying enough, though. “Fine. You can think I’m fucking lying if you want, but that datapad has the entire thing. Tell me if those reports in that thing don’t sound exactly like her latex ass.”

Nora raises one eyebrow again and picks up the datapad, remaining sock dangling from her hand. Faster than Jack thinks possible, the commander’s eyes go wide. She turns paler — something she didn’t know could happen. And then, all around her, she hears the soft hum of biotics. The round Prothean orb, the ship models, armor, laundry… everything not bolted down is hovering. Not by much. Just a bit. But it’s a shocking loss of control.

“Shit,” Jack mutters. Her brain stutters. “Shepard!” No response. “Shit, shit, shit.” _Yelling? Touch? Shit this looks so much easier in vids_! “Commander!” she barks, doing her best to sound official.

Finally, Nora jerks and looks up from the datapad, eyes almost inhumanly wide. “Reporting — what? Oh.” She doesn’t even notice the floating… anything.

 _Gotta keep her head here._ “So, uh, see?” Jack offers, softening her voice a bit. “Not lying. Wish I was. Seriously, that’s some fucked up shit right there. Makes Stockholm syndrome look like fun.”

Nora’s exhale sounds like it came from a vid on how to deal with emotions: long, slow, and frustrated. But the objects settle. “…thank you, Jack,” she finally says, meeting her eyes. She expects rage, or sadness.

There’s nothing. Nora’s eyes, normally warm brown, or at least full of emotion, seem like hollow amber now. “You’re… welcome?” she replies, unsure of what to do. _What’s Alliance protocol for stuff like this? Hell, what’s **any** kind of protocol for this?_ “You gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shepard says. Jack’s never been more convinced of a lie.

“Uh, yeah, bullshit. You’re not even going to get pissed?” Shepard shakes her head slowly. Jack explodes a little. “Why the fuck not? It’s fucked up! You have every right to get mad! _Get mad!_ Get revenge! Piss in Cerberus’s fucking space Wheaties!”

Nora just watches her, eyes hollow enough to make her ache. “I know. I’ll be fine, Jack. Please go.”

“No! Not until you do _something_ other than look like —” she never gets to finish her analogy.

“Please leave, Jack.” Any other time, she would have disobeyed the order. But the orb’s floating again, and an odd note in Nora’s voice convinces her. She backs away, watching the commander. The commander watches her back. When the door closes, she’s left with the impression of a mannequin, sitting on the end of a bed.

  
\- - -

  
_We received the body today. Hardly optimal condition, all things considered, but we’ll do what we can._

_Preliminary scans reveal a surprising amount of genetic abnormalities in Shepard’s body. Neural system is highly atypical. Body shows signs of more than one disorder. Seemingly hereditary spinal scoliosis, early stages of cancer cells present, weak bones in what remains of both forearms and calves…_

_We will correct the physical abnormalities. The Illusive Man doesn’t want us fiddling with her neural connections more than necessary. Some of her Alliance documentation speaks of past troubles with mental illness, primarily after the incident on Akuze. Most likely stress-related. We’ll monitor for PTSD when she… wakes._

Reading it over makes the words sear into her brain even farther. Her thighs give out. She slides off the bed, into a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed, and tries not to collapse into herself.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Nora mumbles to her knees. “You knew something like this was likely. You knew you were being watched.” Pressure threatens the inside of her eyelids, hot and wet. “I’m a mess. I know I’m a mess.” Fingernails catching at the scar behind her knee, she shivers. “At least I’m a useful mess. Mostly.”

  
_\- - -_

  
Zaeed hums as he sends his message to Shepard, strolling along Ilium’s streets. Grunt’s waiting for his next match, in a building two blocks away. He took the opportunity to message a contact on Ilium. They replied and, finally, _finally_ , he has a lead on Vido.

He’s been ready for this for far too long.

  
\- - -

  
“Report, Captain.” As far as furnishings go, the office is rather spartan. A desk, a few chairs, and a square rug — but everything present is lush. The chairs are lined with fur from alien animals, the rug a hand-woven relic from Earth, and the desk made of wood like black holes.

In the middle of it, Aria somehow doesn’t look out of place. Rather, she seems perfectly at home, despite standing at attention. “Toombs will not be a problem any longer. I delivered the information to Shepard. The tracking probes I sent out when I entered the Omega nebula indicate she left for Alchera not long after I gave it to her. She does not seem largely different from the reports I saw of her prior to her…” she hesitates.

Behind the desk, tapping precedes, “You can say resurrection. We still don’t have any data, but that seems likely enough.”

“Very well. Her crew seems loyal. Even Taylor lingered outside after escorting me to her cabin.” She lets her rakish grin stretch her face when the person behind the desk sits up stock straight. “Might be an attraction thing for a few. Not for all, though.”

“Understood. I’ll send you the coordinates and information for your next mission.” A pause. “Also, the ruler of Omega says to stay off her turf. One wunderkind named Aria is enough.”

She almost giggles. “I did not wish to be there. She can have her kingdom.”

  
\- - -

  
Jack storms into the port lounge and shouts, _“Kasumi fucking Goto where in the ever loving **fuck** are you?”_ All she hears for a minute is herself, echoing in the little space.

“My, you’re emphatic today,” comes Kasumi’s soft purr a moment later. “Is this about the rum again? I forgot —”

She finds herself with Jack’s finger in her face scant seconds later. “I told her. And I’m pretty goddamn sure I shouldn’t have! Fuck, fuck, _fuck, **bad fucking idea!**_ ”

“Why? Was she angry?” Kasumi asks, tilting her head.

Jack just shuffles farther forward, shoving her finger farther into Kasumi’s face. “No, she fucking wasn’t!” she barks, face twisted with emotion. “I told her, she didn’t believe me, I showed her the files, and she _broke_.” Her breathing’s heavy. It doesn’t betray the twisting nausea in her stomach. “Have you ever seen what a death row inmate looks like?" Kasumi nods. “Ding ding ding, that’s what our commander looks like!” Jack throws her hands in the air and backs away. “Fuck. I should — fuck. I broke the commander, and she was a decent fucking person, and who knows what the fuck will happen now?”

“You’re swearing a rather lot,” Kasumi mutters. Jack shoots her the best _eat shit and die_  look she has. “The commander is strong. But she can’t recover from something she didn’t know. Now she can.”

Again, Jack almost bursts at the seams. “You know what? Fuck you, Kasumi! You don’t know best! Do you know what it’s like to be broken down and annihilated? Because I goddamn well do, and if you don’t want to get back up, _you won’t_.” She keeps her hands at her sides by strength of will, and strength of will alone. “What does Shepard have to live for besides this mission? What does she have to keep her going?”

Neither of them can answer.

  
\- - -

  
Samara hears the shouting, if not the words. She’s waiting outside the elevator when Jack exits. “Jack. I sense turmoil in you.”

“No fucking shit, Sherlock,” the biotic mutters, punching the elevator call button. “If I pay you ten credits, will you tell me I have someone tall and dark in my future?”

“I heard you speak of the commander. Might I prevail upon you to speak of her to me as well?” Samara asks. It’s exactly the right words. Jack doesn’t turn, but her hand falls from the call button.

“Depends. Whaddaya want to talk about? ‘Cause right now, I think the commander needs less fucking socks in her life.”

Samara snorts. Then she steps closer. “I have my suspicions, regarding the manner of Shepard’s… revival. You have fought alongside her longer than I. This ship seems rife with those listening, but I have eked out a peaceful place for myself. Will you speak with me?”

She does.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt wipes blood from his armor and grins. “Next!” he shouts.

Nobody comes for a little while.

  
\- - -

When her omnitool dings, she takes the distraction with both hands. It’s just what she needs.

_Shepard,_

  
_Gotta contact that’s got a lead on the thing I told you about. In Ilium. Grunt’s fighting. The contact’ll be here soon if you want to meet ‘em._

_Z_

“EDI, where are Grunt and Zaeed?” Nora asks, tilting her head forward. If she focuses, it doesn’t feel like she’s floating outside her body. When she doesn’t, her hands don’t seem like her own. It’s odd to see them close the message.

“They are at a ringmatch. Grunt is fighting against all challengers, and so far, has won every fight. Would you like directions?” EDI tells her.

Nora closes her eyes. “Just…” She opens them and finally catches sight of the Prothean orb and the hovering piles of laundry. “…directions would be good.” Her omnitool dings again, this time with the coordinates. She doesn’t even bother with her armor. Instead she just slips her sock and boots on and goes.

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed’s humming merrily, beer in hand, as he leans over the railing. “Gotta love a good fight, eh?” he barks at one of the nearby asari. The entire pack are clearly visiting from Thessia — they have all the earmarks of Thessian importance. Broader shoulders, wide faces, and expensive weapons, down to the last of them. But Grunt’s already beaten one of their number. The others linger up here, afraid.

Below, a salarian dances around Grunt. He stands still, watching, as the other alien prepares… something on his omnitool. The ice coalescing on the salarian’s sleeve tells Zaeed it’s a cryo-shock. Just before it discharges, Grunt slings a hard punch. It goes straight into his opponent’s face, cutting short the attack and taking him down for the count. “Anyone else?” he roars.

So far, the end of every fight has been followed by a pause. This time, there is none. “There is always another,” someone answers. Below, they step into the ring. He hangs over the railing for a good look. Female turian. Tall, as they all are. Her fringe is short enough he almost mistakes her for a male turian. Only the way her body moves and the slim cowl keeps him from the mistake.

“Heh, I like crushing turians,” Grunt rumbles. “Ready to lose?”

Her head darts forward, almost bird-like. “I don’t know. Are you?” Before either of them say anything else, the announcer speaks.

“Three… two… one… _rumble_!” Grunt’s already charging. But the turian is gone, entirely vanished.

“That’s a goddamn nice tactical cloak,” Zaeed grouses, trying to find any telltale shimmers. He catches one near Grunt’s entrance — no! She’s behind the krogan, discharging an overload directly into a medigel port. A step, and she’s gone.

“Brains and brawn both have their purposes,” her voice comes, fading in and then out. “Either can beat either.” Silence in the ring for a moment. Grunt stands, sniffing the air, when she speaks again. “Except you can’t hit what you can’t — **oof**!”

He slams squarely into her, despite the tactical cloak, and sends her flying into the wall. The cloak disengages. The crowd sees her thump against the stone and hit her knees hard. But she doesn’t fall. She’s back on her feet almost immediately, dancing out of the way of Grunt’s fists. “Can and will,” he snarls, spinning and lashing out. “You think we’re all stupid?”

“No,” the turian’s harmonic voice echoes. “I just know your weaknesses.” She backflips away, body strangely human for a moment, and disappears with a crackle.

“I have none.” Grunt turns slowly, scanning the ring. “I am the best of every krogan!” He follows it with a roar and charges at thin air. The cloak glitches, just for an instant, and Zaeed catches her sprinting _up_ the side of the arena wall and springing away. It flickers back in, and he sees nothing until Grunt bellows and grabs at his neck. Then it fizzles again. She’s kneeling on Grunt’s shoulders, twin omniblades digging into either side of the krogan’s neck.

“Yield or die,” she purrs. He jerks, tries to throw her off. She’s prepared. Electricity comes from _somewhere_ (her omnitool? her armor?) and travels down Grunt’s body. “ _Yield_ ,” she urges.

“And the krogan goes down! Gewin Kaemehr remains champion!” the announcer booms. Zaeed jerks back from the railing and blinks at the turian below. Grunt finally grumbles something quiet, and Gewin flips off his shoulders to start for the stairs.

Behind him, someone says, “I assume there’s a reason you’re staring at her like she’s a grenade?” Only the fact he recognizes Nora’s voice keeps him from spinning and decking her.

“Yeah,” he replies. “That’s my goddamn contact.”

  
\- - -

  
Grunt’s mad. To use the human adjective he hears so often, he’s as fucking mad as can be. Beaten by a turian? And not just any turian, a _female_ turian? He doesn’t even smell Palaven on her. That means she’s some colony brat. On the way up the stairs, behind her, she stops and chitters to another turian. It’s not encoded in his translator, but he recognizes the sound. Lower Teavihk. _Not just from a colony, but from a colony’s slums?_ he grumbles to himself.

His anger slides into the back of his mind when the turian marches straight up to Zaeed and says, “Massani. I’m your contact, in case you didn’t figure it out.” The mercenary huffs, and the turian continues, “I don’t have the information you need, though. My sister does. Come with me.”

“Where to?” Commander Shepard’s voice rings out. He didn’t even notice her, lurking behind Zaeed. She’s not wearing armor. Odd.

Grunt marches to his commander’s side. On his way past the turian, he hears the hum of her subharmonics and deciphers it. _Why would she be surprised by Shepard?_

“Commander.” She blinks rapidly before speaking any further. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I’d heard of your… return…”

“Do us all a favor. Answer the question, and don’t waste my time,” Shepard snaps. The turian’s back goes steel-straight and she answers.

“It’s not far. Well… as far as Ilium goes, anyway.” Her talons click against her armor as she crosses her arms. “My sister and I aren’t very welcome in turian societies. We stay on the fringes of this one. She’s also a very busy woman.”

Zaeed grunts at the same time as Grunt does. They glance at each other, blink, and focus back on the turian. “Better be some goddamn good info,” Zaeed snarls at her. She shrugs, unperturbed, and beckons them forward. They follow. Grunt has to keep glancing down — outside of her armor, Nora’s footsteps are almost entirely silent.

  
\- - -

  
Gewin hails a taxi. They all load in and fly over Ilium, Grunt pressing his face to the window and peering down. It spirals down to the roof of a short building. Nora watches the turian, but her face betrays nothing as she leads them into the bowels of the building. Stairs, and stairs, and stairs — she counts seven flights, and the building couldn’t have been more than five stories. The farther down they go, the worse her back hurts. But at the end of the seventh flight, Gewin stops before a wide door and motions them forward.

“You brought more than you were supposed to,” a voice comes from above the door. “Massani, Shepard, and krogan. Interesting. Enter.” The doors slide open. They spill into a room, so sterile her eyes sting, almost entirely white with hints of red. Across the room, a turian pops out from behind one of **many** lab tables and approaches, syringe in hand. “Commander Nora Katherine Shepard, commander of the SSV Normandy, sole survivor of the Akuze tragedy, and recently resurrected corpse.” Nora blinks at her. She’s taller than Garrus, just like Gewin, and… looks almost exactly like the other female turian. The only difference is her white coat, compared with Gewin’s black garb, and a longer fringe. “May I have your blood?” the turian asks, talons clicking excitedly on the oversized syringe.

“What?” Nora sputters. “I — you — what? Why would you need that?”

“I pilfer quite often. Breaking into Alliance databases gave me your scans at enlistment and every time you re-upped. Alliance storage centers gave me DNA samples for each of these events.” She brandishes the syringe and smiles, a little ruthless and wild. “If I could have some scans and blood, I could chart the way your body has changed, and how it’s reacted to your resurrection.”

For a minute, they’re all quiet. “I… I have my own mad scientist, thank you,” Shepard mumbles.

Gewin laughs and moves forward. “Calm down, Reeonn. That’s not why they came.”

Zaeed takes over after another heartbeat. “Fuckin’ right it’s not. I’m here. Where’s my goddamn information on Vido?” She can hear him mumbling under his breath, most of it swear words, and not a word of complimentary.

“I have your information. I don’t require anything for it… yet.” Reonn turns, white coat flaring behind her, and marches to another lab table. “Just owe me a favor, and we’ll consider it done.” She trades the syringe for a datapad and waves it at them. “Deal?”

“Dea —”

“I’m getting really tired of people promising favors for me,” Nora grinds out, teeth gritted. Reonn and Gewin both blink, the motion synchronized.

“Well, if you’re offering me a favor, I’ll take it,” Reonn states. “But I want a favor from Massani.”

“Me? Just me? Not the fuckin’ zombie commander?” Zaeed asks, clearly startled.

“Well, yes.” She turns and gestures, opening a holographic terminal in front of her. “It goes like so. I give you this. You get rid of Vido for me. Once the Suns are leaderless, they stop recruiting, and their drug trade goes down. They primarily use and target turian communities.” Two taps open a picture — some kind of alien brain. “That benefits me. I’m able to obtain turian bodies untainted by drugs and other…” She wrinkles her nose and her mandibles flare. “Distasteful habits.”

“You’re dissecting turians?” Grunt rumbles before Nora or Zaeed can say anything. “Thought that was illegal.”

Both of the women grin, vicious and unremorseful. “I said we weren’t very welcome in turian societies,” Gewin purrs. “Is it a deal, though?”

Zaeed doesn’t hesitate. “Why the fuck not? As long as I come out of whatever the fuck you send me into alive, I don’t give a good goddamn.” Reonn’s grin only widens as she hurls the datapad at him.

“Most likely, it’ll be a simple retrieval mission. Occasionally someone in the Hierarchy will send someone for me. You might end up dispatching them.” She turns back to her holographic display. “I have an additional offer. This one is primarily for you, Shepard.” Nora listens, eyebrow raised. “Your ship is currently docked and undergoing work, correct?”

She turns. Nora murmurs a hesitant, “Yes, we’re adding shielding…?”

“If you plan on acting on this tip, and aiding Mr. Massani, you’ll need a ship. I have access to a few. Your shuttle might work, but it’s generally meant for shorter distances.” More pictures on the screen. These, Nora recognizes. It’s the full-body and cranial scans taken of her when she joined the Alliance. “You have two options. Let me scan you and take your blood, or owe me a favor.” For such a bird-like race, she’s never seen one look quite so… shark-like. The turian’s peculiar seafoam eyes bounce from the screen, to her, back and forth, for a long minute.

“Do you even have a scanner here?” she mumbles. Reonn perks up.

“This isn’t the whole of my facility. There are four more floors below this, you see. Two are morgues. This is the floor with the least dangerous experiments, generally regarding non-turian races. The one below this has research into turian illnesses. Below that are the two morgues, and the bottom floor…” she pauses. “Well. It’s hardly legal, or safe, but I have pieces of the ship which attacked the Citadel in 2183.”

Nora’s head spins. “You have pieces of _Sovereign_ here?” she hisses. “Are you mad?”

“Well, that seems to be the general consensus,” Reonn replies, barely perturbed as Shepard storms toward her.

“Do you know what that ship can do? It’s dead, yes, but I have no doubt it can sway you to their cause!” she shouts. “Any of the Reapers are not to be underestimated!”

Reonn just leans her head to the left and stares down at her, eyes studious. “So you still believe it, even after resurrection?” she says, voice softer than Nora’s heard it so far. “Good.”

“…what do you mean?” she has to ask. The turian waggles her mandibles and turns, striding across the floor.

“Come. The scanner is on the third floor down. Gewin will entertain your companions and prepare the ship for you.” Reonn cranes her head toward her sister and shouts, “Go ahead and give them _Fireblood_!”

“You sure?” Gewin calls back. Reonn just nods as a wall opens into an elevator. Nora’s five steps behind, but she’s there.

“What do you mean, I still believe it?” Nora urges as the wall closes behind them. Reonn assesses her again, eerie seafoam eyes piercing her.

“Many of those who claimed to believe your theory of the Reapers have recanted, especially after your death,” Reonn says, bland and blunt. “Most of the galaxy thinks it was a political plot now, focused on getting you the seat on the Council.”

“They _what_?” Shepard shouts, her voice ringing in the little elevator. Sound escapes a second later when the door opens onto a floor, stacked to the ceiling with silvery boxes. For a second, she forgets her anger. “…how many bodies do you have down here?” she asks.

“One hundred and eleven turian bodies, twenty-seven asari, four krogan, thirty-two salarian, and fifty-four human.” Reonn strides forward. “Each floor holds one hundred and fifty bodies. This is the turian floor. I’ve had to discard far too many bodies lately due to the fact Blue Suns prefer to recruit turians.”

After marveling at the stacks, Nora remembers her anger. “Why would I make up that giant of a conspiracy to get a position I never wanted?” she asks as they approach a door.

“Theories abound. My favorite is that you were deranged after Akuze and sought a Council position so you could destroy other races’ outposts and make them suffer, too.” Behind the door is a plethora of equipment, brains sitting behind refrigerator doors… it’s fascinating and horrible to look at. “In with you,” Reonn orders, tapping twin metal doors before opening them.

“How does this work if you’re usually scanning corpses?” Nora wonders, stepping inside the doors.

Reonn closes the doors, but slides something across the top. Light floods in. “Usually, I use the restraints, and they don’t fall over,” her voice comes, dry and sarcastic. “Do hold still.”

Little fibers of blue light creep from the sides of the machine and dance across her, sweeping and spinning. It’s almost soothing. Outside, Reonn’s tapping furiously at something and humming. Nora doesn’t keep track, but she’s not inside long. When the lights retract, the doors click open. “Can I come out?”

“Yes, yes, come,” the turian’s voice answers, clearly distracted. “I have no idea how your skeleton hasn’t collapsed in on itself!”

“Oh, that’s comforting,” she snarks, turning and closing the doors behind her. Light flickers across the black loops in the back wall, illuminating something scaly and grey hanging from the restraints. She shudders and steps away. “Did you still want blood?” _This… doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should,_ she thinks. There’s something clinical about her, something like Mordin, but she’s… oddly comforting, somehow.

“Next floor down for blood,” Reonn informs her, and they set off back through the rows. Stepping into the elevator, the pain in Nora’s back twinges and pulls on her nerves. If it wasn’t quite so sharp, she wouldn’t have hissed. Reonn doesn’t say anything about it, just fixes her with a steady eye. “But as I was saying — many have recanted. I know they’re quite real —”

“How?” Nora cuts her off.

Reonn’s mandibles indicate clear displeasure with interruption. Nora doesn’t care. “Part of this one tried to talk me into joining them,” the turian finally says.

Every single hair on Nora’s body stands up. “It did what?” she snarls. “I swear to every black hole, if you’re indoctrinated —”

“Good word. But I keep it shielded, and I’ve done studies, made notes. Some brains aren’t effected by the signals the debris emits like others are.” The doors open. Again, Nora’s back spasms as she steps forward. “I haven’t isolated the cause yet. Gewin can’t go near it without frothing fits and attempts to murder me. I can _hear_ what it says, but it doesn’t sink in.” She shrugs, the most human thing Nora’s seen from her yet. “If it’s possible for Reapers to do this on a mass scale, I don’t know why they would bother with killing us and not just enslave us.”

“They do,” Nora mutters, eying the turian before spilling. “The Collectors are Protheans. The Reapers took them.” More pain in her back. _Ouch._

To her credit, Reonn only pauses for a second. “An odd idea. But truth has always outdone falsehoods.” She picks up a tube and gestures her closer. She holds her arm out and Reonn attaches the tube to the inside of her forearm. Four seconds’ worth of stinging later, the tube detaches. All that’s left is a thin red line, already healing from the medigel. “Would you like me to send you anything interesting I find?”

“…I told you, I have my own mad scientist,” she points out, rubbing her back. “I can just ask him.”

“Mordin’s probably busy,” Reonn mumbles, tapping the vial of blood. Nora goes stiff. “Besides, he’s on Cerberus payroll now. He might not be loyal to them, but he knows a job. He’ll keep whatever he’s supposed to keep secret just that — secret.” The turian smiles and stows the blood in a pocket somewhere. “I’m unbiased. I’m also — the human word is asshole. I am an asshole. I’ll tell you the truth.” When Reonn says 'asshole', it's in English. Nora doesn't know how to react to that, so she doesn't.

“Send them to the ship doctor. Karin Chakwas.” Reonn holds out her omnitool and Nora obliges, typing in Chakwas’ contact. “Is that all?”

“For now. Enjoy the ship, and please don’t crash it. It’s special.” The turian stares down into her face, peculiar gaze roaming over her expression, for a long minute. Nora blinks back. She’s most used to Garrus. Reonn’s face is far slimmer, more elongated, and her markings are red. But she finds herself glad Garrus doesn't give her this stare. “I’ll be in touch.”

  
\- - -

 

Mantis in hand, Garrus approaches the ship. It’s a little turian frigate, but he’s never seen this particular make before. No shipyard on Palaven would send a ship out that looks this sleek. The wings curve towards the front and stay far closer to the body of the ship than usual. After assessing it, he shrugs and goes for the airlock. “Shepard?” he calls out. Shepard is not who he gets. Instead, Grunt pokes his head out and motions him in.

“Nice ship. To be a turian ship, anyway,” the krogan rumbles as they enter. He’s not lying. The high ceilings alone tell him it’s designed by a turian. It’s not big, but every bit of space is used and useful. To the left, he can see the small CIC. To the right, there’s a door probably leading to quarters or an armory. A hallway stretches out before him, lined with more doors on the right.

“Vakarian! You bring the commander’s armor?” Zaeed barks, hanging out of a door.

“Brought her weapons. Tali’s bringing the armor,” he drawls, letting Nora’s Tempest dangle from his talon like a toy. Every gun comes in different sizes for the different races. Humans and quarians use the smallest of all. He can’t imagine using something so _little_. “Where’s Shepard?”

“Up front, messing with the controls.” Zaeed frowns. “I think she’s planning on piloting us. She qualified for that?”

Cold chills race down his spine as he remembers _every mission **ever**_ in the Mako. “Not before she came back to life, and probably not now.”

Zaeed’s slow blink precedes him saying, “Then get the fuck up there and talk her out of it. I’m not dying before I get my revenge.” Garrus is already on the move — but his long stride carries him to the front of the ship before he remembers. This isn’t the Normandy. Turian ships have the piloting beside the CIC, not ahead of it.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Nora calls out. He turns. She’s sitting in the pilot’s chair, to the left of the galaxy map. On the right, there’s a seat for the gunner. “Please tell me there’s a setting for English on this?”

He shrugs. “Most turian ships aren’t meant for human use.”

Nora huffs and slides her chair to the right, peering up at the galaxy map. “Something tells me the Kaemehr family probably doesn’t adhere to that.”

More chills down his spine. “Did you — did you just say Kaemehr?” he asks, voice more than a little weak. She glances up and nods, sliding her chair back to the left.

“This is one of their ships,” she tells him. “What do they — aha!” She finds something. He can see the controls on the display changing from the angular shapes of higher Teavihk to the strange shapes of… English?

Garrus steps closer and mumbles, “Should you be accepting help from turian criminals?”

She’s humming now. Before her, the black surface to the edge of the CIC folds back. Familiar joysticks emerge. “Why are they criminals? Grunt said something about dissection?” she asks, sliding her hands into the joysticks and flexing her wrists.

“Should you really be flying?” he deflects.

Her glance up at him tells him it wasn’t successful. “Unless you have pilot’s training, yes. I’m not good with shuttles, or anything like the Mako, but I’m perfectly fine with everything else.” Her thumb skates across the edge of the joystick. “I actually wanted to be a pilot, not a real Marine.”

That’s something he didn’t know. “Well, it seems to have worked out,” he offers, still trying to deflect.

“Ish. Most fortuitous case of standing in the wrong line ever for the Alliance,” she mumbles. “But answer me. Why are the Kaemehr sisters criminals? What’s so bad about cutting people open?” Nora pauses and adds, “Well. As long as they’re dead first. Otherwise, that’s vivisection, and very gross.”

He’s heard the word vivisection a few times. It’s never been something his translator translates. Given the context, he’s perfectly fine with it. “I… if you… dismember someone after death, you’re disrupting their spirit,” he explains.

Or rather, he tries. The look Shepard gives him says _t_ _hat explains nothing._ Luckily, Tali comes into the CIC just then. “Nora Katherine Shepard! Do you mean to say you’re going to fly us to… wherever this thing is?” she demands. “I value my life, thank you. Please let me do this.”

Nora throws her hands in the air. “Why does nobody believe I can pilot this ship?” she demands.

Together, Tali and Garrus chorus, “ _ **Mako?!?”**_

  
\- - -

  
After fifteen minutes of fighting, they finally agree to let Nora take them out of the hangar. If she can make it that far, she can keep going. (None of them have much faith.)

Tali’s firmly buckled into her seat, gripping the long armrests. “Final checks are cleared. Ready for launch!” Shepard calls. Tali can hear Garrus’ armrests creaking under his grip. Beneath them, she can feel the ship’s engine thrumming.

She closes her eyes and mumbles to herself, “Keelah, oh, Keelah, let me survive this!” It becomes a litany as she waits for the crunch of the ship against _something_. Surely.

“There. We’re out of the hangar and heading out of atmo,” Shepard announces. “Do you assholes believe I can fly a ship now?”

She cracks one eyelid open. Indeed, the windows show Ilium growing distant. “…then why can’t you drive the Mako?” she asks, letting go of the armrests.

“It handles like a drunken krogan thought engineering was a great idea. It’s durable, yes, but otherwise it’s shit.” Fondness flickers across her face. “It was my piece of shit, though. Shame it wasn’t whole enough to take off Alchera.”

Tali turns her head in time to catch Garrus glancing at her. She agrees whole-heartedly with his look of _t_ _hank the spirits it wasn’t._

“Outside atmo.” Then Nora _giggles_. “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work we go!” The entire view of space does a 180 as the ship turns head over heels, the engine’s hum rising as they hit FTL.

“You’re terrifying,” Tali tells her. Nobody else disagrees.

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed’s having the time of his fucking life. All these Suns are well-trained. He recognizes a few. Not many, but enough. Despite their training, though, none of them stand a chance. Both he and Grunt mow them down like so much grass. The more dangerous ones don’t live long enough for him or Grunt to get to them. It’s almost a game. Behind him, he can hear Nora and Garrus both vying to take them out first.

“Mine!” Nora shouts, a pulse of biotic energy whipping by his head and stirring his hair. The energy turns into a dark knot, pulling the engineer off his feet.

“Is it?” The Mantis fires. The salarian goes limp, body like a ragdoll in the singularity. Then the soldiers come, a solid dozen of them. One more falls to the crack of the sniper rifle. Grunt sends one flying with a shotgun blast, grabs another by the throat, and charges a third. Another pulse of energy tosses one against a tree with a solid _thwack_. The fight’s over too fast, and they’re over a bridge, rushing up a hill.

“We’re comin’ for your fuckin’ smarmy ass, Vido!” he bellows, charging into the factory. “Bring it on, you son of a bitch!” Nothing disappoints when the doors open. On a landing above, what looks like not one but two dozen soldiers stand en masse. Vido’s in front.

“Zaeed. You finally tracked me down,” the man purrs. He moves to reply, but Vido goes on, voice sharpening. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t be stupid. I have a whole company of bloodthirsty bastards behind me, ready to kill or be killed on my command.”

Grunt’s throaty _heh heh heh_ floats through the room before he rumbles, “Only one company?”

Vido rolls his eyes. “Yes, very nice, you found a krogan. Go ahead. Take your shot. Then we can finally put you down like the mad dog you are.” Zaeed snarls, signals, and opens fire. It’s a distraction. None of his shots come anywhere close to hitting, but Garrus doesn’t miss. The hiss of gas fills the room. “Gone nearsighted, old man?”

“Burn, you bastard,” he spits. This time, he doesn’t have to miss. The room erupts in fire, bodies flying. His team takes cover. More than one Sun leaps the railing and lands hard, only to be knocked off their feet by a singularity.

“All of you just signed your death warrant! Especially you, Massani!” Vido shouts, motioning forward the few remaining.

“Death doesn’t stick to me well,” he hears Shepard mutter. It’s a side thought as he and Grunt bash in the control wheel, the susurrus of escaping gas in his ears. “Zaeed, what the — _holy fuck!_ ”

Nora’s swearing coincides nicely with the giant fucking explosion. It’s beautiful as hell. “Gate’s open,” he tells the commander and the turian crouched behind her.

 _“Next time you decide to blow something back to dark space, warn me. I’ll turn off my comm first,”_ the quarian’s voice comes in his ear. _“I’m almost done scrambling their communications entirely. Every cipher the Suns use is stored here. When I’m done, nobody will know left from blue, and I’ll have access to everything they’ve ever **thought** about owning.”_

He snorts at her smug tone. As they move ahead, Garrus mutters into his comm, _“Was that a purposeful mistake? Blue and left are like citar and divittot.”_

There’s an answer, he’s sure, but he’s already talking over them. “Home field advantage, gone. Confidence’s shot to hell now.” He grins at Nora as she keeps stride with him. Like this, finally taking his revenge, he feels young again. Phantom iron in his mouth, like when he turned firefights into fistfights, and the Suns were just a dream, just seven of them against the galaxy. “As long as we keep up the pressure, he’s dead.”

“Just don’t burn everyone else to death along with Vido, okay?” Nora says, leaning her head to the side and looking up at him. “If we descend to his level, it makes us just like him. Right?”

It’s a hard point to argue. “As long as he gets killed. You want me on the Normandy, you better make goddamn sure that man dies today.” She just raises one eyebrow and nods.

  
\- - -

  
Something’s off. Not badly, but Garrus… well. He thinks, _I’m hardly in a place to pretend I haven’t been watching her._ _Something’s wrong._ Nora’s fighting well. She (almost) always does. But it all seems oddly academic. There’s no shouted declarations, no battlefield glee. Standing still, he notices the way her hands are on her guns. Clunky, as if she’s unused to them. Ahead, more Suns rush forward. More explosions follow. Shepard charges with Grunt, surprisingly quiet if not silent. When she hurls one unlucky turian into a stack of crates and roars, he’s almost relieved.

 _ **kraKOOOOM!**_ Something, somewhere, explodes, and the ceiling valiantly tries to go with it. Giant chunks of burning metal hit the ground, one almost spearing Grunt. Smaller explosions accompany the hail of shrapnel from… a box of grenades? _Who does that?_ he thinks, incredulous, as he hits the ground.

“Fuck me running!” he hears Nora spit. His head whips up so fast he almost scrapes his bad mandible against the floor. One hand’s on her cheek, bright red already leaking over her fingers.

Before he’s halfway to his feet, a strange (human?) voice wails, “HELP! They’re trapped!” Bleeding or not, Nora’s on her feet almost instantly, staring up at the walkway above them.

“Who’s trapped? Where?” she shouts up at the man. Garrus stands and eyes the man, rifle at hand. He doesn’t look dangerous, but…

“Workers! Almost all of them!” the man gasps, sagging against the railing. From here, he can see the soot and burns on the man’s clothing. “Nobody can get to the gas valves to turn them off! We’re all going to die! Help me, please!”

Zaeed’s already walking away, slipping a new heatsink into his assault rifle. “No time. Vido’s probably half-gone by now,” he grunts.

“No — **what**?” Nora spits, spinning on him. “You’re willing to watch innocent people die?”

“Damn right! Vido’s a danger to a lot more than the people here, and if he gets away, I’m blaming you,” he snarls, glaring over his shoulder at Shepard.

On cue, the man wails, “My wife’s in there!”

“Then blame me,” she snarls right back, stepping closer and shoving him forward. “I’m going.” She spins and sprints for the railing, vaulting over it. “Garrus! You’re in command if Zaeed’s compromised!”

“Nora, wait —” She doesn’t hear, his words drowned out by another explosion. Another walkway falls, blocking the path behind her as she disappears into flames.

“Glad she saw it my way,” Zaeed mutters, bringing up his gun and turning to face the doorway. Rage, utter and all-consuming, swells up inside Garrus. Grunt’s not expecting it. Zaeed isn’t. Neither is he.

Perhaps that’s why neither of them stop him before he picks up Zaeed by the collar and says, voice an angry gnarl, “If she doesn’t come back, I’m blaming you.” The human hits the floor hard. Garrus doesn’t wait for a response before walking off, cocking his Mantis and dearly hoping for someone to get in his way.

With this kind of rage in his veins, he might claw someone open bare-handed.

  
\- - -

  
Metal bends beneath her feet, shuddering beneath the impact of the explosions, as she hurls herself down the walkway. Nora barely slides into the recess at the end in time. Behind her, the thin metal shrieks and drops away. “Sure, do the moral thing, Nora,” she chides herself. Her omnitool’s feverishly clicking over combinations for the door as she bounces on her toes, eying the fiery conflagration less than a meter away. It opens and she darts through, only to find herself with another room nearly full of fire.

Picking her way through, dodging more shrapnel, she recites every swear word she can. She’s up the stairs before an explosion almost catches her off guard. But she hits her knees and crawls beneath the spout of flame. It’s close enough for Nora to feel the blood on her cheek crisping with heat. Another door awaits, and she smacks the control, ready to dart through —

Hair flies into the fireball, smothering her with the acrid scent of its burn as she stumbles back. But she can see what looks like controls ahead, it can’t be far, _just keep going just keep going just keep going_. A lull in the flame provides an opportunity, and she slips through, heading straight for the console.

“Oil intake A, empty, oil intake B, malfunctioning, oil intake C, _shut the fuck off,_ ” she rambles, fingers dancing across the console and shutting down everything she can find. “Done.” There’s only one way to go, so she takes it, hoping she’s lucky and she’ll find another console. It’s not even ten steps away, just past the stairs. “Playing the lottery when I get out of here.” Three more intakes shut down. She turns, ready to look for another.

For her troubles, she gets a face full of smoke. Hacking and coughing, she stumbles up the nearest steps. Halfway up, her watery visions fails, and she stumbles, slamming into some pipe array. “Please let that not be something combustible,” she wheezes. Nora stands and moves on. “Didn’t need that lung…”

Someone nearby yells directions, something about extinguishers and fire and she’s just trying to find another console _can they just shut the fuck up for a single minute_ — oh. There’s a console. Fuel outputs, one through four, disabled. “Extinguishers. Right,” she breathes, going for the path of least fireball. It works. For a minute. Then something else falls and explodes, right in her face, _again_. “I don’t get paid enough for this!” she shouts at the ceiling. The blood on her cheek has dried, but she’s pretty sure she doesn’t have eyebrows any longer.

Apparently, someone listened. Though she has to dodge another conflagration of walkway wreckage, nothing else explodes into her face. When the fire extinguishers finally kick on, she debates standing in the water for a minute. “ _Zaeed, status?_ ”

 _“Fucking shit up!_ ” is all the answer she gets, followed by the boom of Grunt’s shotgun. She rolls her eyes and breaks into a run again.

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed opens fire on a crate. When it blows, it takes three Suns with it. Vido’s shouting something. He’s too busy dodging grenades to give a damn. “Watch out!” Shepard’s voice comes from right behind him. Three grenades bounce off her barrier and fly back at their owners. The boom satisfies.

“Brought help, did you, Massani? You still don’t have a chance!” Vido bellows. His eyes roll back in his head so hard he almost misses his shot. “Took your Blue Suns, took your life, and now I get to take it again! HA!”

Shepard and Grunt try to speak at the same time. Grunt gets there first. “You can’t count, human! There’s more of yours dead than ours! None can stand before _GRUNT_!” On the last word, he charges, taking down four with just his body.

“I’m with him. You’re doing an awfully bad job of winning!” Nora calls out, hurling a lazy singularity. “By the way? This is **not** Commander Shepard’s favorite refinery in the galaxy!”

“You’re awful, Shepard,” comes over the comms.

He squeezes a shot off, and Garrus calls, “Officer Vakarian, here to cite you for… everything.”

Perfectly timed, Grunt punctuates with another ringing, “ _ **GRRRRUNNNNT**_!”

 _“Are you all introducing yourselves?! Is this what you do in your spare time? Think about smarmy introductions for firefights? Keelah, preserve me!”_ the quarian grouses.

“Shepard, you and your pets can walk out of here alive,” Vido calls after a moment of silence.

“Planning on it!” Shockwaves of biotic energy knock a half-dozen down like bowling pins. Nora grins at it and shouts at Garrus, “Try ‘Archangel agrees’ next time! You’re supposed to back me up!”

The sniper takes another down and drawls, “I did. With regulations.”

“You hate regulations!” Grunt’s got one turian’s leg in one hand, and an arm in another. He fixes that by hurling them at the same wall, the throws perfectly in sync with each other.

“I hate **_abiding_ ** by regulations. Very intimidating, though.”

_“You’re a regular comedy show. Can you hurry it up?”_

“All things in time, Tali,” Nora chides. Just then, Vido starts shouting again. And again, Grunt beats Nora to the punch.

“Do you ever shut up?” he bellows. Zaeed laughs. The laugh ends, and he can hear something thumping outside the room.

“Get ready, Zaeed. Here it comes!” Vido giggles, almost maniacal. Nobody has a retort to that. He glances about, surprised — and catches Nora’s face. She’s biting her lip, eyes wide, and almost bursting with laughter.

“Don’t,” he snaps. She dissolves into giggles, but doesn’t say a word. Then the mech emerges. It’s the first real threat to any of them in the entire room. The squad sobers, and it falls.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt’s the first one out of the factory. Too late. The gunship’s warming up for takeoff, doors shut and ship hovering just out of reach. Zaeed’s second, howling and firing at the ship. It stutters, one shot breaks the window, but the ship doesn’t stop. Shepard’s out next, skidding to a stop as Zaeed rounds on her, bellowing. “You just cost me twenty years of my life!”

“Did I?” she spits back. “Shut the fuck up and reload before you set fire to your gloves.” The ship’s in the air, facing towards them, guns leveling. “Grunt, get ready.” Then she sets her jaw and **_pulls_**.

Biotic scent, the crisp-clean-tang of mass effect fields, overwhelms him. The entire ship’s enveloped. “Get… down… here!” Nora grunts, every word punctuated with a tug. The last word brings the ship down, nose-first, into the landing pad. “GRUNT!”

He whoops in response and charges, ripping the wrinkled door from the ship and casting it aside. Inside, Vido’s breaking down. The corpse of his pilot is slumped next to him. It doesn’t take much effort to break the seatbelts and pull the man from the cockpit. He hits the ground with a heavy _thump_ and skids to a stop, not far from Zaeed’s feet. “Zaeed, Zaeed, buddy, it was business, it was only ever business —”

Grunt turns to find Nora on her knees, eyes unfocused. Garrus kneels beside her, one arm around her shoulders and the other still on his Mantis. “Come on, let’s get back to the ship,” the turian urges him. He eyes the commander, still stinking of biotics, with the faint burn of an overheating amp at the edges — yeah. Ship.

Zaeed joins them a minute later, to the sound of explosions.

  
\- - -

  
On the way back to the ship, Nora’s almost entirely unresponsive. She can walk, but not much else, her pupils too big and eyes unfocused. Garrus almost drags her back the whole way. As they get closer, she starts wobbling less. They’re in sight of the ship before she glances up at him and focuses. “Garrus…?” she mumbles, blinking rapidly. “Where’d we go?”

“You overloaded your amp, I think,” he answers gently. “We’re almost back at the _Fireblood_.”

“Oh, ship fly time,” she says, blinking harder and pulling away. She stands on her own for… about four seconds. It’s longer than he expected. Then she sways and nearly topples. He barely catches her in time.

“Fuck no, you’re not fuckin’ flying,” Zaeed barks, turning back towards them. Garrus has never seen such fierce glee on the man’s face before, and it’s been there since they left the refinery. “Hit the sack.”

“Okay,” Nora acquiesces. “Sleep, then flying.”

Ahead, he hears Tali scoff. She’s leaning against the outside of the airlock. “I’ll fly, Shepard. It’ll be fine.”

Nora tries to pull away again. He tightens his grip and rumbles, “ _Nora_ ,” as a warning. For whatever reason, a shudder slides down her entire body.

“I’m fine!” Shepard protests. “I promised Reonn and Gewin I’d bring it back safe.” This time, he shudders. She speaks the names so casually, like he hasn’t seen a dozen vids about how dangerous both of the Kaemehr sisters are. One cuts up other turians for science and has no qualms with it. The other protects the scientist. It’s far from a crime — except for the part where she’s proactive. Off the top of his head, he can name at least four Hierarchy officials that disappeared when they went after the sisters too hard.

“And Tali can’t do that?” he replies to her after the pause. “What, you don’t trust Tali?”

“My crew’s mission, I borrowed the ship. My responsibility.” She frowns at him as they approach the airlock.

“What, you don’t trust me, Shepard?” Tali calls out, stepping away so they can walk in. “I would never —!”

“Just like you’d never steal all my art supplies and hide them around the ship? Or switch out my chocolate for dextro chocolate? Or write on all my favorite pants?” Nora counters as they enter the ship. Once they’re in the hallway inside, Tali flips open her omnitool and immediately starts scanning Shepard. 

“Look, you had seven pairs of pants. I only saw you wear three. I don’t think writing, _These are Shepard’s favorite things on the Normandy_ on the leg was that big of a deal. It washed out… eventually.” Tali’s grin is evident in her voice. He remembers all the incidents Shepard’s listed off, but he’s focused. This close, he can smell all of her. All the vids, everything he’s ever read or seen, say she should smell like flowers and love. She doesn’t. Sweat, gunmetal and oil, and blood are the first things he smells. Beneath that, there’s faint hints of chemical concoctions, and beneath that is the warm, _alive_ scent of a human.

 _Spirits, preserve me,_ he thinks. Nothing about her body — warm and somehow pliable, despite the armor — is turian. He’s almost past caring. Part of him still gnaws at the edges of every wayward thought, saying, _she’s human. What kind of turian are you? You’ve never been a good turian. This brings you to a whole new level._ But he’s **almost** past caring.

“Everything seems fine, just overexertion. That means I am flying the ship.” Tali holds up a hand before more than a syllable breaks from Nora. “No. You need to rest, and we need to get back to the Normandy. Garrus!”

“Tali?” he answers, focusing on holding Nora upright. The commander’s eying the galley door.

“Make sure she takes her armor off and sleeps. I’ve driven more than one ship in my life.” She strides away, mumbling. Nora might not hear what she mumbles, but he does: “At least, in theory. Simulators count, right?” He chuckles and makes a note to have Zaeed help.

“You heard her. Armor off,” he urges, half-dragging her to the end of the hall, where the officer’s quarters usually are. They’re not much larger than the rest, but — “Oh.” The quarters are the right size, but the furnishings are a lot more… more than usual. The bed’s relatively huge, covered in expensive _biar_ cloth. He hasn’t seen any since he left Palaven. Usually, the desk and chairs are spartan. These are still functional, but heavily cushioned, with padded spur rests on the chairs. Everything’s dark and warm, oranges and reds that feel like home.

“Pretty,” Nora mumbles. He looks down to find her scanning the room. “Okay. No armor.” She leans away and starts unbuckling. He helps. Or rather, he starts helping. When the chestpiece pops away, revealing soft skin beneath pointed collarbones, he has to pause. By the time he realizes he needs to stop staring at the muscles shifting, she’s kicking off her boots. “Garrus?”

He rolls his eyes, but answers. “Shepard?”

Climbing on the bed and pulling her legs close to her body, she stares him down. “Bring me food? Please?”

“Oh, so you’re admitting you’re not at your best?” he teases. She wrinkles her nose at him, and he doesn’t expect the fondness to dance behind his breastplate like it does.

“I’m hungry as hell, and my head is swimming.” She leans forward and rests her arms on her legs. “Please, Officer Vakarian?”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs and exits. Zaeed and Grunt are already in the galley, picking over a box of levo protein bars and rations.

“Didn’t know you were suddenly human, Vakarian,” Zaeed greets him. “Got a cravin’ for it?”

This time, his eyes roll of their own volition. “For Shepard. Anything good? I don’t know…” He just shrugs. He doesn’t have bad levo allergies, but there’s enough difference between tastes he doesn’t want to bring her something disgusting.

After a moment, Zaeed tosses him a silver ration packet. “Fried chicken and gravy. There’s mashed potatoes second cabinet in the left. Not too bad. Jerky inna cupboard too.”

Garrus wiggles his mandibles and sneaks another identical packet from the box before hunting out the mentioned ‘potatoes’ and ‘jerky’. _Humans have such odd sounding food names,_ he thinks, opening the refrigeration. Inside, there’s BioBioost and half a dozen turian drinks. BioBioost ( _guaranteed to return biotic energy faster than all competitors!)_  is dual chiralty, so he sneaks a blue and orange can and turns toward the door. On the way out the door, he remembers — “Ah, Zaeed?” he gets a grunt in response. “Tali might need your help. She’s only flown simulators before.”

That brings Zaeed up out of his chair, shouting. Garrus disappears before he hears more than three swear words. When he comes back to the captain’s quarters, Nora’s scooted up on the bed and curled up against the pillows. Clearly, the bed was designed with female turian proportions in mind. It's long enough that he could almost sleep in the room left at her feet. “Anything decent in the kitchen? I saw the jerky earlier.”

“Zaeed said the ‘chicken’ was good,” he answers, offering the packets. She takes them, rips one open, and _devours_.

After a minute, she glances up, raises an eyebrow, and pats the bed. In between bites, she says, “Siddown. Tali won’t be able to take off until she gets it translated into quarian. I could have told her where the button was, but that’s no fun.” Her grin’s wicked, and little, and everything he wasn’t expecting from her after the way she was in battle.

Against his better judgement, he strips off his armor, sits down on the bed, and watches her. The chicken disappears quickly, and then she’s on to the next packet. He waits until she’s drank an entire BioBioost and finished the second ration before he asks, “Nora?” She hums in response, already onto her third. “…you weren’t yourself. Earlier. In battle. Is —” he starts to ask _is everything okay_ , and then he remembers his reading. “Did something make things worse?”

Halfway through her bite, she freezes. They sit in silence for a few seconds before she chews and swallows. “What — what do you mean, I wasn’t myself?” she asks, not meeting his eyes.

Her legs are stretched out on the bed now, thin and oddly shaped in their black casing. Hesitating, he reaches out and slides his hand over it, his talons caging the bony ankle. “Distracted, off your game… just odd,” he clarifies.

This time, when she answers, she meets his eyes. Dark brown, usually so present and warm, has faded and grown distant. Almost as an aside, he notices the tremble to her hands. “It’s… I don’t want to think about it right now.” She tilts her head and holds his gaze. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.” He squeezes the ankle under his hand. “Is it something to do with Toombs? Cerberus?” She grows even more still. _Hit my mark_. Normally, he would crow, but he can’t. Not over this — not over _her_ , he catches himself thinking.

“A little. Ish.” She takes another bite and chews slowly, stalling.

“If you feel like talking…” he trails off. “But if it helps, I’m glad Cerberus brought you back. I’m glad you’re here.” Against his better judgement again, he pours every bit of emotion he feels into the words, subharmonics pouring from him. Her reaction isn’t immediate. She pauses. Then she looks down, sets aside her ration, and sniffles. “…Nora?”

When she looks back up, her eyes swim with water. “Yeah?” she chokes out.

He doesn’t know what to say. Crying humans always give him the shivers. “I… mean it?” he offers.

His answer is a sniffle as she brings one hand up and scrubs at her eyes. “Thank you, Garrus. I needed that,” she whispers. “Just… thank you.” They sit in silence for a little while longer, his hand on her ankle, as she finishes the rations. He doesn’t ask for permission, but he doesn’t leave when she curls up on one side of the bed and passes out.

(He tells everyone later he fell asleep making sure she wasn’t concussed or hurt.)

 

\- - -

  
Miranda paces. Something’s off. Usually when Nora goes somewhere, she’ll come back and brief Miranda before she goes, or make a video call. Just in case something happens while she’s gone, someone needs to know the details. Now, Shepard’s taken a strange ship and gone on a jaunt somewhere with only a bare few lines of text as notification. “What am I missing?” she huffs, re-reading the message for the seventeenth time.

_Miranda,_

_Zaeed needs some help. A contact supplied us with a usable ship since the Normandy’s being upgraded. I’m taking Tali, Garrus, Grunt, and (of course) Zaeed._

_We shouldn’t be more than a couple of days._

_Commander Shepard_

Nothing’s gone wrong since she left. It’s been twenty-nine hours and fourteen minutes since the message was received. But Nora’s not ever this taciturn in writing. She hasn’t been this formal since the first few weeks on the Normandy.

“I wonder…” she muses. Ashley might not know much, since she was left behind. I can ask. Flight Lieutenant Moreau and the doctor might know more. With that, she leaves her quarters.

  
\- - -

  
Honestly, bones and all, Joker wouldn’t trade his life for much. Sitting in a bar on Ilium, full of beautiful dancers? Yeah.

Cailin’s minding the ship, hangover and all. It’ll be his turn tomorrow. But for now, he lets the Thessian vodka and Noverian rum warm his bones. “Wish Kaidan was still here,” he says to the air. “Or Shepard. Ash never checks girls out with me.”

“You could always take Jacob,” comes a voice from _right next to him_. His jump and screech are very manly. Honestly.

“Jesus, Lawson, warn a guy?” he wheezes, turning from the bar. “I could have choked to death. What if I’d had one of those Elenteian Blitzes? Fruit’s dangerous.” Miranda’s perched on the stool beside him, dressed in a simple black dress. It’s nothing special, not like any of Shepard’s seducing dresses. She still looks _damn_ fine in the low-cut burgundy, and the black band at her waist only emphasizes everything she has both above and below it.

“You weren’t. I think you’d survive,” she drawls, leaning forward.

 _Holy mother of God, tits,_ is Joker’s first thought. His second is _Wait, why is she doing this?_ All his thoughts scramble around in an impossible mess for half a second before it solidifies into a single statement. _She wants something._ “Maybe. Maybe not,” he offers, taking another sip. “Didn’t think this was your scene.” He glances at her, absently swirling the cobalt blue in his glass.

“It isn’t particularly. But I had a question for you. I don’t…” she shrugs, the movement elegant and calculated. The line of the simple silver necklace shifts, drawing his eyes back to… _center_. “It could have waited, I suppose.” He raises an eyebrow and takes another sip.

Trained in subterfuge? No. Good at lying his ass off? _Bring it_. “You’re here now. Unless you feel like getting drunk out of your head and table dancing for me…” he trails off. _Let’s see if she takes that bait._

Her nostrils flare. There’s no other reaction. “It’s about Shepard. She’s been acting oddly.” The other eyebrow goes up to match the first before he turns back to his glass and eyes it.

“And?” The glass is getting too close to empty, so he hails the bartender. “Hey! Can I get some Thessian buffalo over here?”

Miranda snorts. “It’s _bufili_ , not buffalo. And —”

He cuts her off. “Eh, close enough. I usually just say Thessian vodka. But when in Rome, right?” The bartender leans over them just then, so she doesn’t say anything until he has a new glass, full of purple Elenteian whiskey and Thessian _bufili_. “Seriously, why the concern? Shepard’s literally just a giant box of contradictions.” He takes another sip.

“Yes, but she’s… usually very staunch about her duty.” Miranda’s twisting her fingers together. Not much, but just enough for him to notice the tick. “She’s been neglecting it.”

“Shepard’s version of neglecting her work looks a lot different than normal, you know,” he points out. The bartender passes by and sets down Miranda’s cocktail. “What is that? A Crescendo of Nebulae?”

“Yes,” she snips. “Have you noticed anything off? Anything particularly unusual?”

He shrugs and leans back, letting his gaze slide down Miranda’s body. _Please get pissed off._  “Other than you in that dress and my favorite commander coming back from the dead? Nah, not particularly.”

“Mr. Moreau! Answer me!” she snaps, her voice taking on a tinge of _I’m the XO, obey me._

He shouldn’t snap. Something about that voice, though — he does. Swilling down the entire glass and slamming it down, he stands. Even with his bones, he’s still taller than Miranda right now. “No,” he snarls.

“Mr. Moreau —” she starts, beginning to rise.

“What, oh leader of the _fucking Lazarus project?_ ” he bites out. It’s worth betraying the secret to see her blanch and sink down in her seat. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the only one who knows, either.”

“How…” she starts, lifting one hand to her mouth. He ignores the tremble.

“Doesn’t matter. What _matters_ is you keeping your hands off my commander. Yeah, I’m glad as hell she’s back.” He steps closer, and she wiggles back farther on her stool. “But she’s not. It’s kind of fucked up that you lied about it. Did you miss the part where Shepard conducted a galaxy-wide investigation? If I know, she’ll know soon.” She doesn’t say anything, just sits and trembles. “Keep doing your job. Keep your head down. Maybe by the time she figures it out, you won’t be just a liar.” With that, he stalks off. The effect’s ruined by his stagger, but leaving her behind feels good.

  
\- - -

  
Karin and Ashley stroll through Ilium, one humming and the other eying medical equipment. Ashley’s arms are already full of medications, medical gadgets — little things to improve the med-bay. “Should we have brought Mordin, d’you think?” she asks as they stop at another stall.

“He’s busy with something. What, I have no idea. But I haven’t seen him out of his lab in…” Chakwas stops and counts. ”Four days? Since we came to Ilium, I believe.” Ashley’s about to reply when Karin’s omnitool chimes. “What…?” Two lines in, Karin blinks rapidly at the screen and starts walking.

“What? Is it a death threat?” Ashley asks, hurrying to catch up. (Okay, it’s not really a hurry. But close enough.)

“No. Have you ever studied turian culture or criminals?” the doctor asks. Ashley shakes her head. “Well. I have a passing acquaintance. One of the more… wanted… of the Hierarchy’s malcontents just sent me a message about Shepard.”

“…well, shit.” Ashley sighs and rolls her eyes. “What did you do now, Nora?”

  
\- - -

  
As soon as they’re back in range of the nearest comm buoy, Garrus gets a message. It’s simple and somehow ominous.

_Garrus,_

_I have some information you may be interested in. Meet me at my office._

_Liara_

He doesn’t let anyone else see the message.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teavihk is my name for the turian language. Higher/Lower Teavihk is based on the system that Rome and Greece used, with formal Greek and common Greek. As for the Kaemehr sisters being criminals, much of the turian 'religion' seems to echo what is popularly known of Native American religions, as well as good old animism. I took liberties. (Let me know if they seem too wild.) Also, my female turians do not look like in-game female turians. Birds and reptiles don't have boobs. 
> 
> I have a headcanon the more 'feminine' of the asari are sent out to work in the galaxy, since they're better accepted by the various races. The more androgynous and masculine aren't... confined to the homeworld, but it's recommended. 
> 
> And I swear I'm going somewhere with some of these bits.


	12. Ownership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everybody does absolutely nothing, and it's great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers nothing in particular. It's a bit of a filler chapter, but it does have a purpose. There's a lot of alcohol in this chapter. If you want to know anything about the flood I mentioned in my fake chapter, that's at the bottom. 
> 
> Also please remember my female turians do not look like canon's.

As a rule of thumb, Nora doesn’t sleep more than two hours without waking. When she wakes, as if slapped, to find Garrus slumped at the end of her bed and gently snoring, her first reaction is bemusement. He’s still in his armor undersuit. When she whispers, “Garrus?” he doesn’t even twitch. “You giant sleepy _bird_ ,” she grumbles, and slides her feet beneath her to scoot across the bed. It’s a testament to how deeply he’s sleeping that he doesn’t wake when she touches him. After an aborted attempt to get a good hold on him, she uses her biotics as carefully as she can to drag him up the bed and turn him about. He ends up sitting, still snoring, not a half metre away from toppling onto the pillows.

“Make me do all the work, huh? Ass,” she huffs, but carefully pulls him down and arranges the pillows under his fringe. _Good thing these are… they’re all turian… fringey pillow things… so they won’t hurt him._  The bed's tilted upwards at the pillow end, just slightly, and there's a shallow cavity beneath the pillows so there's room for his cowl.

After a minute, she glances at the thin window lining the captain’s quarters. The absolute void of space, marred only by an occasional twinkle, greets her. “Guess they got off the ground okay.” Her brain’s still muzzy. Using her biotics increased her pounding headache. So she crawls to the far side of the bed, slides under the covers, and drifts off. Her last conscious thought is, _Sharing a bed is okay, right? Hope it’s not a weird turian marriage bond… less trashy novels…_

  
\- - -

  
Generally, Mordin likes quite a lot of things. Knowing things comes first. Receiving mysterious summons about mysterious information does not fall into that category. Nonetheless, when a message comes to his omnitool, he first reads it out of habit. (He will _never_ understand how some leave dozens and hundreds of unread messages sitting.) And then his curiosity gets the best of him, so he finds himself landing a skycar outside a short, squat building. All buildings on Ilium manage to stay somewhat pretty. But this remains surprisingly functional.

“Is that — Mordin, what are you doing here?” a familiar voice hails him. When he turns, Williams and Chakwas are crossing the street.

“Received message from old friend. Worrying. Hopefully nothing immense.” He taps his face and hums. “Assume you received similar message, yes?” The doctor nods and extends her omnitool for him to see. Just then, the door behind them opens.

Familiar, and yet not who he expects, someone drawls, “It’s a regular party here.” He sniffs and glances over his shoulder.

“Gewin. Pleasure. Reonn nearby?” he asks. _Nopointwastingtime_. “Received her message.”

“I’m the retrieval crew,” Gewin huffs. “Come.” They follow her, down stairs — not particularly many. Williams takes the opportunity to quiz him.

“You know… whoever this is?” she mutters. It’s not particularly quiet. She probably doesn’t care.

“Yes. Gewin and Reonn Kaemehr. Turian criminals.” Ahead, the doctor inhales. He hurries on, “Not for good reason. Bad reason. Or rather, good reason, bad law.” Williams raises an eyebrow and motions at him to continue. “Extremely opposed to turian ban on dissection and experimentation. Still humane, but outside turian law. Very dangerous to the Hierarchy.”

“Turians ban dissection because they believe it will disrupt the spirit of the body, am I correct?” Chakwas calls back. He doesn’t have to answer. Gewin does.

“Turians ban a lot of things for a lot of reasons. But in short, yes. Reonn thought it was stupid.” Gewin spins and somehow manages to both walk and talk backwards. “In the last ten years, she’s doubled the amount of information available on Corpalis syndrome, Nefix disease, Tekarn disorder… and about two dozen others. No good doctor in the Hierarchy will admit to using her information, but they all do.” She flashes her teeth at them in an imitation of a human smile. “Give us another twenty and they’ll be obsolete.”

As they step off the stairs and proceed towards large double doors, Williams asks, “And your Rillian, or whoever, she’s not afraid of spirit-y mumbo jumbo?” Her question comes out as the doors open.

“Why should I? Such a thing would be foolish. I have done studies. Once the life force has exited the body, there is nothing remaining in it save tissues and other organic matter,” Reonn tells them. “Hello, Mordin. Good to see you.”

“Yes, reunions nice. But busy. Reason for telling me to come?” As he speaks, he steps past her, and cannot help stepping farther into the room. “Impressive lab space. Better than last time.”

Reonn’s mandibles flare with amusement. “Since I operated out of a ship built of trash when you last saw me, I should hope. If there is time, I may let you look about. For now…” She hesitates.

 _Odd_ , Mordin thinks. _Reonn hardly hesitant. Foolhardy and tactless, but never hesitant._

“I’m sure you know your commander came back from the dead, or a state close to it, yes?” They all nod. “I offered Zaeed Massani, one of your crewmembers, information. Since your ship is temporarily unavailable, the commander and I traded. A scan and a bit of blood, and she could take one of my ships to aid Zaeed.” Chakwas inhales sharply. He ignores it.

Again, Reonn hesitates. Gewin, already across the room, scoffs. “Spit it out, Ree. Mordin’s scared of two things, and one of those is faulty equipment.”

Reonn’s mandibles flare. This time, it’s agitation. “Your commander’s skeletal structure has been largely replaced by metal. Much of it is done so that I am unsure why it has not collapsed on itself.” Another sharp breath from both human women. “However, this is not what concerned me most. The way these are grafted to her…” She opens a large hologram, taller than her, and zooms in slightly on a scan. “These are designed to withstand the stress such heavy implants will have on a human skeleton. Only very skilled scientists could know how to graft these… or somebody who has already done it before.” She curls her nose up. “Cerberus resurrected someone else.”

He blinks at her. Before he can say a word, Williams raises her hand. “Uh, yeah. Me. One resurrect-y Marine, present and accounted for.” Both the turians go deathly silent. Reonn’s jaw drops. Something falls from Gewin’s hand and clinks against the floor.

“ _Really_?” Reonn asks after a minute, eyes aglow. “You are…”

Ashley rolls her eyes and salutes. “Former Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Hero of Virmire.” Reonn clasps her hands together and grins.

 _Turian grins. Never pleasant,_ Mordin thinks, and settles in.

  
\- - -

  
After a half-hour of poking and prodding at her, the turian finally seems satisfied. “Yes, yes… your new skin was grown on Ilium… interesting construction… do you realize your cybernetic arm was replaced at least twice before this one?” Reonn babbles.

That’s mildly interesting, if morbid. “How can you tell?” Ashley asks. She tries to imagine, and the first thing that comes to mind is graffiti. No, that’s unprofessional. _It’d be etched inside or something, like a serial number. C34B3RUS-W4S-H3R3._ Even the thought’s too amusing to suppress the giggle.

“Very simply. The scan you let me take lets me see your skeleton in detail.” Though they all had been whisked downstairs, they’re back where they started now. The room’s dark, with only the large hologram of the scan in the middle. Reonn zooms in on her arm. “Here. You can see the places where they attached the others. I can see at least two places where they had to reinforce your bones after attaching the prosthetic.” She zooms in again and pokes the image. “It’s speculation, but there was probably more than two arms. Especially if you were their first attempt, it would have been hard to figure out the right weight balance, the stress your skeleton could take…”

“If you think there was more than two arms, why can’t you see the places?” Ashley wonders.

“Two possibilities. They were attached in the same places, hence needing reinforcement after removal.” Reonn pauses. “What is that… ah. If not that, then they ‘fucked up’ so badly they had to remove part of your humerus.” Ashley shivers. Instead of thinking about that, she focuses on how Reonn swore in _English._

“Right. Probably fucked me up royally, like I didn’t know already.” She rolls her eyes. “Hack scientists, messing with my body. Literally.”

Reonn closes the hologram and turns the lights back up. “Not hacks. Certainly very talented. Mordin and I could have designed and attached an arm for you in one try, perhaps, but not everybody is a genius.”

“Yes. Others often _wrong_ ,” Mordin agrees. Ashley glances over. The salarian seems to be in his element. “All this very interesting, but not what you called us for. This all?”

As a former mild xenophobe, she can’t read the turian well, but the mandible flare doesn’t mean good things. “No. If only.” She crosses her arms and walks away, leaning against a table. “Your ship is Cerberus crewed. I hope you do not trust them all.” Mordin glances at Ashley. She glances at Chakwas. It turns into a ridiculous circle of looks.

“Why?” Karin asks, tapping her fingers against her omnitool.

“Doctor Chakwas. Are you aware the Commander is either doing drugs or being drugged against her will?” Reonn spits out, words sharp.

Ashley reacts first. “The _**fuck**_? If you’ve talked to Nor for literally twenty seconds — she’d never do drugs!”

Reonn tilts her head and juts her chin forward. “Never? Not ever?” Ashley shakes her head no as emphatically as possible. “Tell me, Officer Williams, how is the commander’s depression lately?”

They all startle again. “I’m assuming you’ve been in her file, then?” Karin mutters dryly.

“Unnecessary. She is hardly a bad actress, but I am hardly an average turian.” Gewin enters the room, waves a heat sink at Reonn as she crosses, and disappears again. “There are many tells. She did not seem particularly enthused about anything. Given her psychological profile, that is already unusual. She moved as if she was having a dissociative episode. Every time the conversation turned to anything other than her physical body, she deflected.” Another pause. “Also, I scanned her brain.”

A brain blooms into existence at Ashley’s waist. The hologram’s blue, orange, and half a dozen other colors. “Her last brain scan, three years after her Akuze incident.” Most of the brain is orange. Blue splotches here and there decorate the fine red, purple, green, and white lines. “And the one she gave me yesterday.” It changes. The shape is similar, but this time, there is more blue. The other colors persist. But of everything, blue is the dominant one. “This indicates her depression is at very high levels. Given what people will do in the depths of depression, drugs are hardly unlikely.”

“Assume for me Nora’s not that kind of person. Why would someone drug her?” Ashley butts in, voice firm. Mordin’s busy poking the scans.

Reonn grimaces. “The compound in her system is… genius, actually. Something about the structure is similar to red sand, but… better? It appears as if this actually seeds new element zero nodes in the neural complexes, therefore increasing biotic power. However —!” They all drown her out by talking.

“Impossible! Have studied for years —”

“If that’s possible, then —”

Ashley herself says, “You’ve gotta be shitting me!”

Reonn hisses. Everyone except Mordin shuts up. Mordin keeps talking, but it’s more of a low babble to himself than anything. “It most likely only works on humans, asari, and _perhaps_ quarians.” Her eyes narrow. “I’d love to do tests… but that isn’t the point. The point is, if Shepard herself is not the source of this, someone is drugging her to make her more powerful.”

Chakwas turns to look at Ashley. Mordin keeps mumbling. She blinks at her. “Did I miss something?”

“Is it working?” Karin asks, her voice very quiet. “Have you noticed anything different?”

Ashley raises an eyebrow. “…maybe? I don’t know. Don’t you have an IQ test for biotics or something? All I know is she’s good at fucking shit up. Always has been.”

“No question of power level increase. Justicar came to me recently, requested aid in speaking with Shepard.” Mordin crosses his arms and taps his chin. “Said Shepard’s biotics had grown since Samara took ship.” He hums. “Has been month? Month and a half? Not good at keeping track of time. But definite growth of ability.”

Ashley exhales. “Okay. So someone’s drugging Nor to increase her power levels.” Her hands curl into fists almost without her knowing. “Why — how — ugh!” Unbidden, a line of poetry comes to her thoughts. _Be angry at the sun for setting, if these things anger you… The gang serves lies, the passionate man plays his part._

Reonn taps something against something else. She’s not paying attention. “The danger comes from… it is clearly still an experimental compound, heavily derivative from red sand. That means the side effects are much the same, except less lethal. Emotional upheaval, skin and teeth discoloration, etcetera.”

Silence, followed by Ashley’s, “Well, shit.”

  
\- - -

  
All turian ships judder just the same when they enter and exit FTL. Using the relays and disengaging the engines are similar, but different. Just before he dozed off, Garrus felt the shudder of the _Fireblood_ hitting FTL. Exiting is what wakes him. For a minute, his surroundings confuse him. Then his thoughts center, and he recognizes the _Fireblood’s_ cabin. “I thought…” he mumbles, eyeing the end of the bed and starting to sit up.

Then the warmth on his left side registers. He turns his head to find Nora, curled under the covers. Despite being beneath the covers, she’s curled up as close to him as she can get. Her back’s pressed against him. Trailing across his chest and barely holding together is her braid. “…oh.” Unbidden but not unwelcome, fondness spirals through his chest. Watching her sleep, eyes twitching and breathing slowly, is the moment he gives up.

Carefully, he picks the tie from the end of her braid like he’s seen her do so many times. He slips his gloves off and sinks his talons into her hair. It’s soft, softer than he could have imagined, like the cloth covering the bed, but so much better. The chestnut slips between his fingers slowly as he picks the braid apart, content.

Then his omnitool dings.

  
\- - -

 

Music ripples through the room, bass and drums shaking the floor. Jack dances like she always has: with complete abandonment. Once, people would have approached her. Since she got her tattoos, it doesn’t happen much. Once the song changes, she slips off the floor and hits the bar, breathing hard.

“Can I get a levo Fleet and Floater?” she asks the asari. They nod and return a moment later with a tall glass, purple at the bottom and bright grey at the top. She eyes it, nods, and forks over the credit chit.

“You seem agitated,” the asari murmurs. “It is human custom to speak with bartenders of such, yes?”

Jack snorts. “I’m always agitated. This time, yeah, I’m fuckin’ chewing at the bit. Just found out the people I thought were just really shit are so much shit they should get flushed.” She picks the glass up and gulps until the burn hits. Then she presses it against her forehead. “They’re hurting someone I… I mean, I don’t care a _whole_ damn lot. But they hurt one of the only decent people I know, and I ended up contributing. Guilt sucks ass.”

“May I ask what made you think badly of them before?” The asari turns and starts mixing another drink for her, since the first one’s half gone.

“They kidnapped kids and experimented on them. The new thing is that apparently they lie about _important_ shit that they _really_ shouldn’t.” Instead of silence, club music fills the space between them.

“I do not know whether you speak of humans, or of others. But as an asari, I know how it hurts me to hold grudges.” They slide the drink across the counter. “I do not mean for you to stop. What I have done for four hundred years is this: identify the root of the problem, deal with it, and move past it. It is simple, and often painful, but effective.” After they say that, they turn and walk off, leaving Jack with two potent drinks.

“Life advice from asari in bars. Fuck me,” she mutters half-heartedly.

  
\- - -

  
Miranda sends a request to the Illusive Man as soon as she… stops panicking. He doesn’t answer immediately. Rather than pacing, she curls up in her chair and shivers.

“Alright, Miranda. Be rational.” She breathes out. “Joker knows. That means… that means the other Normandy originals probably know. So Garrus, Tali’zorah, Ashley, and Karin. That means…” her breathing shortens again. “Nora’s going to know soon.”

Her thoughts derail and spin. _If I’d told her immediately, if I hadn’t lied, then maybe — but it’s too late for that. Nora’s rational but she’s already been so nice and I don’t know how she’s going to react if she finds out **please please** please don’t let her find out_

She doesn’t stop hyperventilating for a while.

  
\- - -

  
Tali sets the _Fireblood_ down and turns to stare at Zaeed. “I _told_ you I could do it! Did you think I was incompetent? Quarian flight simulators are the finest sims in the galaxy!” He stares right back.

“And they’re still a bunch of fuckin’ fakes. S’all good and well, but imaginin’ doesn’t do shit in the real world.” He snorts and stands, cracking his back. “Or does your simulation bullshit go for everything? Means you’re automatically good at sex?”

Her jaw drops (not that he can see). “Mr. Massani!” she sputters.

His laughter’s a dry crackle. “Might have to find me a lil bit of quarian on the side now.” Both arms go behind his head, elbows in the air, and he walks off whistling.  
  
“I’ve never seen him in a such good mood,” Tali mutters. “I suppose… well, it’s not my business. I’d better wake everyone up.” And so she stands from her chair, very nicely switching the console back to Teavihk, and heads toward the crew quarters. When the door opens, she’s greeted by thunderous snoring. All the beds were long enough, but not wide enough, for Grunt. He pushed two together and called it even. Remembering how startled krogans react (badly), she opts for not touching him. Instead, she yells, “Fresh varren ribs!”

Almost instantly, the snoring stops. Grunt jerks upright and blinks, eyes groggy. “Varren ribs?” he mumbles.

“Sorry, Grunt. I didn’t know how to wake you.” She eyes the quarters and adds, “I came to tell you and Garrus we’re back on Ilium, but I guess he woke up and left already.”

Grunt snorts and rubs his eyes, like a young quarian might rub his mask. “Nah. Never came in to bunk. Probably playing with his guns.”

Tali’s ears perk up. If she had to bet on her idea, she’s pretty sure she’ll win. “I don’t know if you want to head straight back to the Normandy, but Zaeed’s outside, I think.” Grunt nods and stretches. She doesn’t stick around. She heads straight down the hall and hesitates right outside the door.

“Hmmm…” she deliberates, for a second or two. Nobody can see _her_ grin, but it’s positively evil as she hacks the door open. “Shepard?” she calls, stepping inside the second the door opens.

Okay, she’s a little disappointed, but not much. Garrus is already armored and on the edge of the bed, one leg up on the bed as he faces sideways. Nora’s sitting on the edge of the bed as well, facing towards the door, practically on the sniper’s foot. “Morning Tali!” Nora chirps, swinging her legs after the second of awkward silence. “Thank you for flying.”

Insufferably smug, she grins and answers, “Not a problem, Shepard.” Garrus glances at her, looking sheepish, and hands Nora a levo food bar. “We’ve landed, in case you can’t tell. I was going to see if you wanted some food, but… it looks like Garrus has it under control.” _Keelah_ , the sideways look the turian sends her this time could kill.

“Yep.” Crunching follows the statement.

Tali waits for a second, but nobody else says anything. “Are you going to help me clear the ship of our stuff, Garrus, or…?” she trails off.

He stands and grumbles, “I was staying here for a reason, but okay.” He’s halfway to the door when Nora gulps her last bite down.

“I’m coming!” she shouts and springs to her feet, still in only the tank and shorts she wears under her undersuit. Her first step goes well, but the second one sends her nose-first into the ground.

“Aaand that would be why I was staying,” Garrus grumps at Tali. He turns and extends a hand to Nora immediately. It’s not fast enough for Tali to miss the look on his face though. It’s soft, and fond, and something she’s never seen on a turian outside of Fleet and Flotilla. It makes her heart hurt.

  
\- - -

  
Nora’s still groggy, but she doesn’t miss the sidelong glances Tali casts them as they walk through the streets of Ilium. There’s something strangely wistful in the looks. She doesn’t ask, though. Instead, she hums. She matches the tune to the beat of her armor’s suitcase as it taps against her legs. It grabs a couple strange looks from asari, but she really doesn’t care.

“Are you humming Boldly and Without Fear?” Tali asks a minute later. “The Xenophi cover, not the Expel-10 version.” Disgust colors her voice and makes Nora laugh.

“Yeah. You don’t like Expel-10?” she wonders, dodging a very frantic salarian. He almost clips her. Back in her simple civvies... yeah, collision would have been bad. “I like them when I feel like shooting stuff. That’s about it, though.”

Tali watches the salarian go before answering. “Expel-10 lacks… _finesse_.”

“And you’re so good at it?” Nora ribs. “Miss Shotgun-to-the-Heart?” Tali just waves her hand and sighs. It’s not long after that they reach their destination. “Garrus, do you —”

“No,” he snaps, his mandibles flaring in agitation. “They’re dangerous.”

Nora raises one eyebrow. “And I’m not?” That tamps his mandibles to his jaw and she catches the alarmed trill of his subharmonics. Most of the time humans can’t hear them, but the alarm tones are higher on the register. She just laughs and taps on the door. “Gewin? Reonn?” she calls through the metal.

It opens a second later. “Shhh,” the tall turian grumbles. “In with you.” She steps aside and they file in, Garrus last. After the door closes, she glances over her shoulder to find the turians staring at each other. Gewin’s taller than Garrus, of course. It’s a rare turian female that isn’t taller than their men. “Palaven,” Gewin finally says.

“Kaemehr,” he snarls back.

Nora rolls her eyes and turns around, stepping closer to Garrus and putting a hand on the side of his chest. “Calm down, Garrus. If they wanted to hurt me, they already would have. They’re not dangerous to you, either.”

“We only dissect _dead_ turians,” Gewin purrs, teeth showing. Beneath her hand, Nora can feel Garrus’s subharmonics vibrating his chest, low in the register.

“ _Really_? Are you both five?” Nora snaps, exasperated. “Is this a turian sex thing, or a real distrust thing? Because if it’s the sex thing, please go bang. If it’s not, grow up, or I’ll snap your spurs.” Again, she catches alarmed trills, this time from both of them as they step away from each other.

 **“Me?** Sex with a… no!” Gewin stammers.

Garrus isn’t far behind. “Criminals aren’t my taste, Shepard,” he drawls a few seconds later, calmer now.

“Then calm down, act your age, and let’s go!” she snarls, spinning and stalking down the stairs. The footsteps behind her tell her they’ve obeyed. And Tali’s giggling, all the way in the back. Nora narrows her eyes. _Ridiculous_.

Both doors are wide open when they reach the bottom. “By the way, we have some visitors,” Gewin tells her, stalking past. Only then does Nora notice the turian’s wearing guns, and her belt’s half-full of grenades. She shrugs and steps through the door, ignoring Garrus putting his hand on his assault rifle. She promptly stops short.

“Karin… Mordin… _Ash_?” she says, gaping. All three of them are dressed in civilian clothes, thronged around a lab table with Reonn behind it. Karin and Ashley look guilty. Mordin just looks intrigued.

“Shepard! Good to see you. Was contacted not long ago. Hurt you did not come to me for scans, but Reonn good scientist. Almost as smart as me,” Mordin tells her. “Question. Noticed any dizziness? Emotional stress? Discoloration of vision?” She squints at him.

“Dizziness, yes, but —” Tali interrupts her.

“I already know what you’re going to say, Shepard, and you’re not going to tell the truth.” She turns toward the table. “Tali’zorah vas Neema, here to tell you why Shepard is dizzy. She decided it was great, and wonderful, and the best idea since _geth_ , to pull a launching spaceship out of the sky with her biotics.”

“Well, that answers my question,” is the first thing Nora hears. It’s Karin. Reonn and Mordin are already on their feet and sprinting toward her.

Ash stays sitting and, slow and deadpan, says, “What the _fuck_ , Nora. One mission, and you’re giving yourself aneurysms, probably.” She leans on her hand and rolls her eyes. “Seriously. The last time I split up from you on a mission, Garrus let the Collectors kidnap you.”

“I did not —” Garrus sputters. Ashley continues.

“And this time, who knows what happened? Apparently you’re pulling ships out of the sky, and I bet you’re not wearing your helmet again…” Ashley sighs. “Reckless, Nor, reckless.”

Nora, very maturely, sticks her tongue out in Ashley’s direction. It’s a failed effort. Both Mordin and Reonn are standing in front of her, poking her cheeks, pulling her eyelid down… “Is this necessary?” she grumbles.

“Well, that does answer many of my questions,” Reonn says, pulling away. “To explain the presence of your crewmembers… I found something alarming in your blood tests. I know Mordin from… past experiences, and you gave me your doctor’s contact. I called them here to ask them a few questions. Miss Williams came with them.”

“Something alarming?” Nora asks, her heart creeping into her throat.

“Either you are a drug addict, Commander, or someone has been drugging you without your consent. Their intent would be improving your biotics.” Reonn’s words are bare, no veneer on them. They don’t need it. The second they fall from her mouth, Nora knows _knows **k n o w s**_

_Miranda’s been drugging me._

  
\- - -

  
Reonn thinks quickly. She always has. When the commander’s hands go to her mouth, her face turns white, and she wobbles, she barks, “Palaven! Support your commander!”

He was already moving before her words came. His arm slides around her shoulder, the other landing on her hip as he moves to stand beside her. His subharmonics fill the air with so much anger and protectiveness, she could hear it a building away. His eyes, blue as his markings, rest on the commander strangely. _Support, odd emotional response, odd facial expressions. Most likely attracted to or has romantic affection for Commander Shepard._ She continues, the thought stored already, “Mordin told me one of your other crew members had noticed increase in your biotic abilities already. What were the side effects of your adventure, other than dizziness?”

Palaven answers. “Her amp overheated. She couldn’t focus her eyes for about thirty minutes, stand up, or make coherent words. Extreme fatigue. She slept all the way back to Ilium.” He snorts. “She regained most of her facilities as we re-entered the ship. Somehow, she thought she was fit to fly.”

Reonn lets her mandibles flare. “I hope she didn’t. I like that ship,” she snarls.

“Don’t worry, I took care of it. Quarians are the best with, well, any kind of ship,” Tali’zorah vas Neema tells her. “Your ship is safe and sound. Nora does still have the pass for the lock, but I flew it.”

“Good.” Reonn turns and crosses the room, coming back with a small box. “I need, if you are willing to give it to me, more samples. Skin, bone, muscle tissue… if I can figure out the way the drug is being administered, we can discover the source.”

“Why do we need to?” Nora asks, voice faint. “I mean, if it’s…”

She cuts the woman off. “This drug is genius. But it is derived from red sand. There is every possibility it will drive you insane, increase any emotional issues, and even kill you in high doses. It does not appear to be addictive, but otherwise, it is dangerous.” Without arguing, Nora pulls away from Palaven and steps forward, her face shockingly pale.

“If you —” Palaven starts.

“Tali’zorah vas Neema, please control your Palavenian turian,” Reonn snaps. “I must concentrate.” She turns and escorts Shepard to a chair. “This won’t take long.”

“Garrus Vakarian! I don’t know what your problem is... well, actually, I do. But **—** ” she hears in the background before focusing on Nora. She can still hear it, and she catalogs every word, but she’s more focused elsewhere.

 _Vakarian. Hm. C-Sec family. Usually very law-abiding. Why would he be with a Spectre?_ she thinks, snapping a ring around Nora’s upper arm. “Usually, this would go on your wrist. However, both of your wrists are metal. This will take a bone sample, marrow, and muscle tissue. It may sting.” She kneels before the commander and hums, pleased. “I am going to touch your clothing. This area is sensitive for humans, but I mean no harm.” Reonn pushes up the thin black skirt and presses a patch to the outside of the human’s thigh. It’s wide, double the width of Reonn’s hands, and about once and a half the length. “May I take other samples as well?”

“What kind?” Nora asks, wincing visibly as the tech goes to work.

In the background, Tali’zorah shouts, “Yes, I know! Do you think quarians have no criminals? You think they’re very dangerous, but I think they’re very intelligent! And they’ve been nothing but nice to Nora —”

“In hopes of gaining a Spectre’s favor!” Vakarian replies, also at the top of his lungs.

Reonn hums and says, “Saliva would be useful, in case you have been drugged orally. It is possible to drug humans through their genitalia as well due to their lack of plating, but most human females know their bodies well enough to know if that is a problem.” Reonn glances up to find Nora staring straight ahead, jaw set.

“Okay,” she mutters.

There’s clear reluctance on her face. Her voice carries the strange, not-quite-subharmonics, tones of emotion. Reonn can identify grief, and something like anger. There’s resignment as well. “You will not need to do anything for the latter sample,” she assures her, retrieving a robot from her kit. It’s small, barely the size of a human medigel port. She retrieves another syringe, sets the robot on Nora’s knee, and stands. “Please pool your saliva in the front of your mouth.”

Seconds later, she has all the samples she needs. “Thank you, Commander. I understand this is all a shock. But this will help me discover the method of delivery for this drug.” The other cybernetic woman has been hovering, and now she steps forward. Reonn turns and eyes the turian and quarian, now glaring at each other quietly.

“You’re ridiculous, Garrus,” Tali’zorah snaps. “Really. Isn’t there a human idiom about not biting helping hands?”

Vakarian snorts. “There might be. But I know there's definitely a turian idiom that says, _‘An enemy is an enemy, even with spurs on.’”_

“That doesn’t make sense.” It was never one of Reonn’s favorite idioms, honestly.

“She tested me too, Nor, if it helps. But hey, at least you know, right?” Ashley offers to her left. “We can go get drunk now.”

Shepard shakes her head. “I can’t,” she whispers.

Ashley tilts her head. “Why not? You did before, and we were Alliance then. Pretty sure Cerberus doesn’t have regs against getting shitfaced.”

Laughter, dry and sharp, cracks out of Nora. “I mean I literally can’t. I drank three bottles of uncut batarian rum, and barely got a buzz.” She drops her head into her hands. “Damn it, I was doing _good_.”

Reonn walks away, samples in hand. Behind her, she can hear Nora mumbling, “I’m still me, I’m still me, I’m still me…”

  
\- - -

  
Ashley searches for something distracting to say. “Oh! Did you know Cerberus didn’t put your shock fibers back in your hair? There’s no trace of them in her scans.”

It’s good enough. Nora looks up. “Really? I didn’t think about it…” she blinks slowly. “Ilium’s a good place to find that out, anyway. Guess I better go get them done.”

“Hasn’t been a problem so far. Maybe you don’t need them?” she offers, along with a hand.

Nora snorts and pulls herself up. “Thanks for jinxing me, Ash,” she grumbles. “Now I have to get it done.” She pulls her braid over her shoulder and stares at it. “Truth be told, I was thinking about having my tattoos re-done, anyway. Normandy’s not done yet, is she?”

Ashley shakes her head no. “Last bits are being finished up. Should be out in a day and a half, I think?” She shrugs and adds, “That’s what Miranda said, anyway.” She catches Shepard’s back stiffening, but doesn’t know why.

“Alright. Grab Tali and Garrus. Tell them they’re welcome to go back to the ship or whatever, but I’m going to go get my shocks back, and then to a tattoo shop.” Ashley nods and heads across the room. Nora’s gaze never leaves her back.

  
\- - -

Garrus stays with Nora for the excruciating process of having shock fibers implanted in her head. All the way there, he tries to talk to her. She talks on and on and on, about nothing in particular, and will not let him change the subject. By the time they reach the kiosk she’s aiming for, he’s very frustrated. He has to laugh at the exchange she has with the tech, though.

“How strong do you want me to program the charges before I give you the program code?” the asari asks, tapping away on a holoscreen.

Nora, red-faced and teary-eyed from having her hair yanked, answers, “I want it strong enough to make quads crumble.”

The asari twitches. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“With all due respect for your professional opinion, I regularly fight people four times my size. I need the charges strong.” Nora tugs on her hair and pulls a few strands out, eying it.

“I’ll never forget what happened when that salarian pulled your hair on Virmire,” he tells her. Her grin’s vicious.

“Smokin’ salarian, it’s what’s for dinner!” Across the kiosk, a salarian tech peers over and slides to the other side of his patient’s table.

But once they’re in a ‘tattoo’ shop, he loses every train of thought he had about anything. Nora starts unbuttoning her shirt and his brain skids to a stop. “What are you doing?” he chokes out. Tali peers across at him, arms crossed and body language insufferably smug.

“Do you think they’re going to tattoo my back through my shirt, Garrus?” she snorts. The black shirt falls to the floor. She’s facing away, so all he sees an expanse of creamy back, interrupted only by a plain grey band of cloth. There are faint scars, all along her spine and ribs, but otherwise it’s pristine. She reaches back and the grey band loosens, falling into her hands.

“I have to go see someone about some information, bye!” he blurts and bolts from the shop. Outside, he speedwalks away before stopping beside a taxi stop and banging his head against the wall. “Idiot,” he grumbles at himself.

“Oh, don’t mind me, Shepard,” comes a voice from behind him. It’s Tali, her voice lowered to imitate his. “I’m just drooling at the thought of you naked.” Her breathy laughter just crawls up his spine and makes him twitch. “Now, are we going to see about this information, or…?”

“It’s Liara. She said she had something for me.”

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed walks along, Grunt at his side, happy as a salarian in a lab. “God, this is a good goddamn day. Probably a good fuckin' week. Only thing that could make it better is gettin’ smashed out of my fuckin’ mind. Been a while since I did that.”

“Nothing’s stopping us,” Grunt rumbles.

He grins at the krogan. “Indeedie, boy. What say we find us a bar?”

  
\- - -

  
Nora’s… she’s not calm. Not anywhere near it. But the calm buzzing of the tattoo gun and the pricking in her skin makes her feel better. “So what did you used to have? I saw the one on your ribs, but I don’t think I ever saw the one on your back,” Ashley asks. She doesn’t answer for a second, so Ash moves her foot from its perch on the stretcher and pokes her in the side.

“Thought you did. Didn’t you see the picture I showed Ginny?” Nora mumbles.

Ginny, their red-and-black haired tattoo artist, replies for her. “Nah. You showed me and flopped on the table. You getting your ribs done too?”

“…yeah, probably.” She turns her head, just a bit. “Top of my back was a supernova. Very bottom of my back had an A. Most of my tattoos were to cover scars.”

“What did your back cover?” Ashley wonders.

Nora breathes out. “You remember the scar I used to have in my eyebrow, right?” She turns her head enough to see Ashley nod. “That was from, uh, jumping into a thresher maw’s mouth on Akuze. My back used to have a scar from where the acid burnt through my armor.” Ashley’s face does something strange.

“Jumping into a thresher maw’s… right. Forgot you’re occasionally batshit for like, two seconds,” Ash says with a smile.

“The black on this nova will have to rest before I can do your color,” Ginny says, popping her gum. “Want your ribs done while the medi works?” Nora nods and rolls onto her left side. “What’m I doing?”

“Those who fear loss have already lost.”

  
\- - -

  
Joker struts out of crew quarters. He feels _good_ today, damn it, and he’s making the most of it. “EDI! Shepard back?” he asks the ceiling.

Nearby, that damn orb pops up. “She has returned to Ilium, but has not yet boarded the Normandy.” The orb blinks at him. “Would you like to send her a message?”

He frowns. “I can send my own messages, thanks,” he responds tartly and walks off. EDI likes editing his messages when he sends them. So he opens his omnitool.

_Nooooora_   
_Normandy’s almost done, u done w/ weird Zaeed stuff? or did u discover ur new tru luv? runnin away w/ Zaeed?_

Seconds later, he has a ping back.

_Fuck you, no. He’s not my type, and you know it very well. Getting my tats redone._

His eyebrows shoot up. _U remember I was big fan of ur back tat right? should get a normandy in middle of it. would be a+._

 _If I remember right, you were mostly a big fan of me being naked, Jeff. The only thing I remember you saying about my tattoo is how good it looked when I was on my knees. :)_ He laughs out loud at that, scaring Chambers where she sits at the mess table.

_U didn’t complain :) :) :) also if ur not going to take care of ur fave pilot u need to be wingman. haven't had quality naked time in a while. plz plz fave cmdr?_

The message takes a minute. Fine, asshat. _But if you and me are going out drinking, everyone gets to. I’m taking the entire ground team. You can bring D and D, and Chambers, and Nastaran, and whoever else._

_Nasta??? Y???_

_You think I haven’t noticed you watching her butt constantly?_

_It’s nice butt!!_

_Point proven, Jeff. I’ll talk to Miranda when I get back. Shore leave party is go._

What else can one do about a party than sing? So he does. “Forgot on top of the world, I’m on top of the galaxy,” he belts, heading for the elevator. “All I ever wanted was a drink, and you sitting right beside me.” Donnelly enters the elevator behind him. Daniels passes by, shaking her head fondly, as the door closes on them belting the lines to You’re My Galaxy.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus taps on the door and waits. He’s not disappointed by the quick response. “Hello, Garrus. Tali. Come in,” Liara calls from inside.

“You look well, Liara,” Tali greets her. “Shepard might have come, but she’s busy polluting her body.” Liara’s face turns quizzical.

“Humans call them tattoos, I believe,” Garrus drawls. Enlightment spreads on Liara’s face.

“Ah, yes. I remember the one on her hip —” she starts. Then her cheeks turn purple. “I, er, I don’t that might be appropriate for…” She coughs. “Anyway. Garrus. I have some information for you.”

Tali’s giggling makes it hard to concentrate. “Yes?” he prods.

“Your time on Omega…” she pauses again. “Lantar Sidonis was the name of the turian who betrayed your team, yes?”

His entire body stiffens as he answers, the very name making him so angry he can’t see straight. All his good emotion gets sidelined. “Yes,” he grits out.

“I believe he is on the Citadel. I do not know for certain, but certain businesses make a profit off of smuggling people into the Citadel. They keep records, which I found. A turian matching Sidonis’s description came onto the Citadel a week ago, and has not left on any similar ships. I would have alerted you immediately, but I didn’t want it to be a false positive.” She folds her hands together and props up her chin. “Twenty-seven hours ago, all of Lantar Sidonis’s files were pulled from C-Sec’s confidential archives. The signature trace is familiar. It’s often used to hide the true signature of Fade, one of the Citadel’s rising identity forgers.”

Everything in him freezes. _Sidonis is on the Citadel,_ is what his heart beats for a moment. “Can I have the information?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

“Yes. I’ve already sent it to the Normandy on a datapad. The shipping manifest I found Sidonis on, the files pulled from C-Sec, and the names, datapoints, and signatures for every smuggling company who accepts turians are all on that datapad.” Liara pulls her hands apart and sighs. “Please, do not let vengeance rule you in this, Garrus. I gave this to you because I know how it is to want.”

He nods and croaks out, “Thank you.”

“That being said, I… have sources on the Normandy.” Liara reaches into her desk drawer and removes a chip. “My sources lead me to believe you are developing non-platonic feelings for Nora.” His body, all ice and steel, turns into goop.

“I can explain —”

“No need, Garrus. I love her, it is true. But were I to stay in love with her, it would hurt us both. You might be better suited to her than I was.” She holds out the chip. “This is an upgrade for your translator. Nora makes a habit of speaking in more than one human language. Most translators only come with Japanese, English, and Spanish. This one has every human language possible. You’ll need it.”

“I’m so glad someone else sees it,” Tali remarks. “He thinks he’s subtle!”

Liara’s laugh is unexpected. “Garrus, you may be a sniper, but you are hardly a subtle man,” she says, smiling. “Here. Take it and go.”

He does, mind too muddled to make much sense of anything.

  
\- - -

  
When Nora enters her cabin and changes, sliding into a blue tank and black pants, she doesn’t think about that datapad at all. The application of special medigel during her tattoo means her back doesn’t hurt. It just stings. The same goes for her ribs. It’s a pleasant sting.

It reminds her it’s her body. It reminds her of childhood ambitions to be an artist. It reminds her of when she was ready to leave the Alliance, before she became a Spectre, before she had to save the galaxy.

It reminds her of being just-Nora-Shepard.

  
\- - -

  
Miranda’s not in her room when Nora finds her. She’s in the med bay, restocking the medi-gel, tube by tube. It’s a tedious task one of the crew usually does. But it lets her think. Every tube or so, she thinks, _What do I say when she finds out?_ It’s followed by a half-dozen thoughts, a different one every time.

 _She’s understanding. She won’t do anything,_ is one.

 _But she has such a temper, and I’ve seen it, oh, God,_ is another.

_Maybe it will be in the middle?_

_I should have told her sooner._

_Why didn’t I tell her? She’s been nothing but sweet to me._

“Uh, Miranda?” interrupts her thoughts. She shrieks, startled, and jumps to her feet. “Jeez! Just me!” Nora squawks, stepping away and holding up her hands. “Too much coffee this morning?”

She swallows before she answers. “My apologies, Nora. I was… in thought.” She pastes on a smile. _You’re good at this, you’re a good actor, be normal._ “I’m glad to see you returned without any injuries. Did Zaeed resolve his problem?”

Nora’s eyes dart away for a second before settling on her. “Yeah. Got to save some of the refinery workers to boot.” She scuffs her shoe against the floor. “Listen, we still have at least a day before we can leave Ilium. The shielding’s almost done. I thought it would be a good morale booster to have a night out for everyone in the crew. I know A’shadieeyah doesn’t drink, and neither does Solomon or Kara, so they can stay onboard. Anyone else you can think of that will want to be skeleton crew?”

Miranda hums. “Jon’s been trying to stop drinking. He’ll stay. Cailin disapproves of large gatherings of drunk people. Van just doesn’t like people.”

She expects the snort, but it still startles her a bit. Nora’s eyes roll. “I know Van doesn’t like people. If they tell me one more time that people are sheep, I might order Mordin to turn **him** into a sheep. It’s the exact same rant _every time_.” She shakes her head and straightens back up. As she rolls her shoulders, Miranda catches sight of blue and black on her shoulder. “I’m not taking everyone to… uh, whatever that place was where we met your contact. Gewin recommended a different club. Less mainstream, less chance of anyone spotting Commander Shepard or the Hero of Virmire and losing it.”

“Did you hurt your shoulder?” Miranda asks, a little worried about the black and blue. Nora blinks at her.

“Uh, no?” Then she smiles, though it seems forced, and slaps her forehead. “I got a couple of my old tattoos put back on.” She turns. It’s an immense supernova. Space goes down beneath the low back of the top, the nova itself starting near the bottom of Shepard’s shoulderbones. Space continues all the way up to the back of her neck. Above the supernova itself, there’s an angular white blob. She leans in closer, confused. And then she isn’t. Small though it is, it’s clearly the Normandy, flying away from the explosion.

“It’s lovely,” she says, stepping back. “I didn’t realize you had tattoos.” Her guilty conscience adds, _they all got burned off before I resurrected you._

“I did. Now I do again.” Shepard smiles again. “It makes me feel like my body’s still mine, at least a little.” She rolls her shoulders again and says, “I’m off to let everyone know we’re partying. Dress in… not latex, please?”

She leaves. Miranda watches her go, eyes pinned to the tattoo. When the med bay doors click shut, she kneels. Her hand rests on top of the box of tubes. Guilt sits in her stomach like lead. ‘It makes me feel like my body’s mine.’ _What a fool you are, Miranda Lawson!_ she scolds herself.

  
\- - -

  
Last on the list of things Jack expects is getting this kind of message from Shepard.

_Everyone,_

_We’ve all been under a lot of stress. While the Normandy’s having downtime, we’ll have a bit, too. Everyone is welcome to join the ground team and I at Beneath Blue tonight. If you want to leave with everyone else, we’ll be near the airlock at 2100 hours._

_Skeleton crew is A’shadieeyah, Solomon, Kara, Jon, Cailin, Van, and Samara._

_See you there._

_N. Shepard_

“Hell yeah, party!” Jack crows. _Don’t know why the fuck you’re throwing one, Shepard, but I’ll take it,_ she adds to herself.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi slips into something little and purple for the night. The hood even comes off. It’s mostly habit by now. She sneaks into Miranda’s hair supplies and steals something to spike her short black hair. Her boots are tall, but functional, and she’s waiting outside the airlock when people start amassing.

Ashley’s first, whistling gaily. It’s not the dress she wore to Bekenstein. It’s blue like starry skies, with silver flats, and her hair’s down for once. Grunt’s next. He’s still in his armor, but his hump’s been polished, and he only has one shotgun. Zaeed comes with him. She expected him to do the same thing, show up in his armor, but instead he’s in a dark grey shirt, top button undone and sleeves rolled up. Together with the sharp shoes and black pants, she can see the ladies’ man he must have once been. But they’ve obviously already started drinking.

Tali shows up much like she always does. Her head scarf is a different color, bright chestnut gold with dark red threads, instead of her usual black with chestnut and red threads. It continues down, as the other does. This one turns into a skirt past her belt, the gold swirling around her knees beautifully. Jack comes in a mini-skirt and crop top, both black and barely decent. Nora’s next, wearing the black dress Kasumi bought for her… with more modest heels, though. “You look good. All of you,” she tells them, eying them all. Her eyes linger on Jack the longest. Though Kasumi isn’t attracted to women, Jack does look dangerous and delectable.

Thane comes, dressed much like Zaeed. His shirt is an iridescent dark green, though, and stays buttoned down to the cuffs and collar. Again, Nora lets her eyes linger on him. Mordin comes next. “Can’t stay and debauch for long, mind,” he warns Shepard. “Important experiments. Must understand nature of… well.” They share a look. Miranda’s dress, when she comes, keeps a high neck but the back dips down nearly into indecency. Jacob comes with her, in a purple shirt, vest, and dark pants.

Joker, buttoned into a white shirt and jeans, comes next. Garrus comes with him. It’s standard turian casual wear, for the most part. Long blue tunic, black pants, and a white scarf to cover his cowl. The lack of sleeves is odd, but not unheard of. “Suns out, guns out, Garrus?” Ashley teases him.

“…what?” Garrus asks, blinking at her.

“Human reference. Never mind me.” After that, the crew members start coming. Daniels looks a vision in bright green, Donnelly looks slightly less pale, Chambers looks dark and mysterious… everyone does look good. Karin’s one of the last to show up, her dress silver to match her hair with black down the sides. Her hips flash dangerously from the high slits. She catches Zaeed eying the older woman’s legs more than once in the short waiting time.

“We’re all here, Shep,” Kasumi eventually sighs into Nora’s ear as she disengages her cloak. “Let’s be off.”

She turns and eyes Kasumi. For a second, she catches a flash of emotion in the woman’s dark eyes. “Yes, let’s.”

  
\- - -

  
Strangely enough, Thane finds himself not entirely disgusted by the club. As a rule, they are places of grand debauchery. He indulges sometimes, but not often. Every body has needs. This club, though, is calm. The music still pounds. People still dance. Sweat, sex, and alcohol still scents the place. But there is something about it — it is a nice place.

After everyone gets a drink, they scatter through the club. Williams, Daniels, Kasumi, and Nastaran all take to the floor. Mordin goes with them. Jack and Jacob nurse drinks at the bar, eying each other over Grunt and Zaeed. Nora sprawls in a booth, Joker to her left, Tali to her right. Garrus, Kasumi, and Thane himself fill out the table. “This is nice,” Tali remarks. “We’re all here, nice and calm, nothing going on… let’s keep it that way.”

Nora reaches over and smacks Tali on the head. “Thank you for jinxing us, Tali, I appreciate that so,” she grumbles. She’s distracted just then by the doctor approaching, bright-eyed. “What’s up, Karin? There’s more room in here if Garrus scoots over.”

Chakwas laughs softly. “I heard the remark you made earlier today about a lack of ability to get drunk. Thus, I took it upon myself to help.” She holds out a bottle, grey at the bottom and clear at the top, full of something sunny yellow-orange. “Uncut ryncol, straight from Tuchanka. If this doesn’t help, nothing will.” She sniffs. “Appreciate it. I had to tell the bartender my boyfriend was a krogan to get it.”

Joker bursts out laughing. “Jesus, that’s a hilarious mental image!” he wheezes, wiping imaginary tears away. “Doctor Goody-Good, gettin’ it on with a krogan. Truly beautiful.”

Thane hides his smile behind his drink when the doctor’s eyebrow arches. “Yes, very hilarious, I’m sure. Not nearly as hilarious as breaking one’s hips during sex, though, I’m certain.” Her smile’s devilish. “I didn’t realize you were into pain, Jeff.”

Everyone at the table save Thane — and Joker, of course — bursts into laughter. Nora, who took the ryncol and has been eying it, laughs so hard she has to set it down. “Don’t… okay, I know that was my fault,” she whimpers. “But that’s funny, okay? Sorry!”

“Traitors, all of you,” the pilot mutters. He tugs his hat down and folds his arms. “Especially you, Nora. Where is my wingman? Not here. She’s too busy _laughing her ass off_.”

Nora stands, still giggling, and wiggles her fingers at Thane and Kasumi. “Scoot out for a minute? Apparently it’s my duty to help Jeff find a lovely lady since he’s too incompetent to do it alone.” Joker’s halfway out of the booth when Thane sees the remark hit him.

“Hey!” But Nora’s already vaulted the table, ryncol in hand, and begun sauntering towards the bar. “Hey — hey, get back here! You better not pick me someone gross!” the pilot calls, hurrying after her as fast as he can go.

“A promising start to the night,” Tali murmurs, stretching her legs out. “Does someone want to get me a refill on my Geth Grinder while they’re up?” Nobody offers. “Fine, fine. It’s still half-full, anyway.”

They all sit, sipping their drinks and relaxing, for a little while. “Psst, look,” Kasumi whispers eventually. “Shep’s talking to someone.” Indeed, she is. It’s someone smaller than Shepard herself, with lithe curves and bright, **bright** red hair.

Karin snorts and sips her brandy. “No way that hair is real,” she remarks. But a moment later, they see the woman’s hand fly to her mouth. A coy smile later, she’s up and sauntering towards Joker. Shepard leans back against the bar, legs kicked out in front of her barstool, and drinks straight from her bottle.

  
\- - -

  
Jacob’s biotics burn through stuff pretty fast. He’s not anywhere near Jack’s level, sure. She’s been slamming back shots since she got here with no sign of slowing down, and her speech hasn’t slurred at all. But he’s already on his third rum and Coke (or, well, the asari version), and he’s almost entirely sober.

Almost. That means when he hears a familiar voice start shouting, he just turns to look instead of jumping to his feet. ( _It’s Nora. Who else?)_

“Why does this only ever happen on Ilium?” she shouts, staring down the man perched on the bar stool next to her. To be fair, his hat’s… very out of place. “Humanity is not superior, and stop saying that! Humans are cool, yeah, but asari are too! So are turians! And salarians and quarians and… yeah! They have criminals, we have criminals. They have dumbasses, and we have dumbasses, otherwise _you wouldn’t be here!”_

The man sputters something back, rising to his feet. It’s evidently something wrong judging by Nora’s shriek. “You! Are! Wrong!” she enunciates, raising her hand. He shouts something back and turns. She ends up chasing him across the floor, hand raised like she'll hit him if she catches him.

Three minutes later, she’s back at the bar. The human man’s missing. She has a free drink from the (asari) bartender for her trouble, and looks very smug. “Huh,” he mutters.

Chakwas’s voice startles him. “Looks like my instinct about the ryncol was right.” He swivels to face her and her brandy. “Shepard gets wordy when she’s tipsy. One of her more peculiar characteristics.”

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed’s just shy of smashed. _Just goddamn drunk enough to make a fuckin’ ass out of myself on the dance floor,_ he thinks. He still has moves. They’re a little outdated, but he has moves.

“Hey, Zaeed, bet you can’t keep up,” Jack dares him as she steps onto the dance floor.

“Invented keepin’ up, girlie, let’s see what you’ve got,” he snipes back. As soon as the song changes, she’s a whirlwind of motion, wild and uncaring. Not quite his style, but hey. _I just fuckin’ won the fight I’ve been waiting for. Who gives a good goddamn?_

  
\- - -

  
Alright, yeah, Ashley’s body handles liquor faster than it used to. It just means she has to try harder to keep up with everyone. She dances her way past Kasumi, who smiles and turns to dance with her. The movement allows her to catch a glimpse of Nora and Garrus. She’s perched on the edge of the table, kicking her legs and grinning up at Garrus. He’s leaning on the table, one hand supporting him as he hovers over him.

“Pssst, lookit,” she hums. “Aww, mushy turian.”

Kasumi glances over her shoulder. Then she smiles. Even drunk, Ashley can see the mischief in it. “Adorable.”

  
\- - -

  
Miranda’s trying very hard not to think about anything. Her trying very hard consists of sitting at the last stool on the bar, going through rum and Coke like it’s water. Every now and then, she’ll get someone hitting on her. They don’t stay long.

In between drinks, she glances out at the dance floor. Some people aren’t dancing, but most are. From here, she can see Jack’s head, Zaeed nearby, and even Grunt’s flailing. Chakwas and a few others sit in booths, more reserved. Mordin’s already disappeared for the night, socializing done. Joker’s not the only one who found someone to drag into a corner. And —

“You do not seem to be enjoying yourself,” a dark voice intrudes. She jumps, just a bit. But she recognizes the voice. It’s Thane.

“Clubs aren’t really my scene, Sere Krios,” she responds, raising her hand to flag the bartender down. “I drink, but I don’t dance, and I don’t do… uninformed one night stands.”

He sits on the stool next to her, still and imposing. Even in iridescent green, she thinks he could disappear easily. “I do not indulge overmuch myself. My body and my soul must remain in harmony. But it is good to share an experience with others.”

She snorts. “And you know? You’re an assassin. You don’t work with others.” The asari passes by, a new rum and Coke in hand, along with something tall and dark for Thane. _Fitting_.

He looks at her, dark eyes overwhelming. “I am not always an assassin,” he replies, voice gentle. “I am an assassin when I kill. I am always a weapon, but weapons must be sheathed. Does it hurt to let yourself rest?”

It’s a valid point. She’s not going to admit it. “Why are you over here then? Shouldn’t you be off sharing experiences with everyone else?” she says, voice mocking. “I don’t even know why you thought to come here. I’m Cerberus. Shouldn’t that scare you?”

“If I let Cerberus scare me, there would be far more of them in the galaxy than exist now.” His voice darkens. “I am not a friend of Cerberus. But I am… friends to individuals. You do not seem to be unworthy. Much of your loyalty for Cerberus comes from what they have done for you… if I am not mistaken.” He catches her gaze and holds it, unwilling to let go. “Am I wrong?”

She looks away after a minute. “No. They’ve done a lot for me. But…” Her exhale carries more of her frustration than she lets her voice have. “I’ve done bad things. Things I shouldn’t have done.”

His hand, strangely warm despite the scales, rests atop hers on the bar. “We all have. It is how we make amends for it that defines us.” When she looks back at him, he catches her eyes again. Something there in the inky darkness sends shivers down her spine.

It’s then and there she makes the decision: _I’ll tell her myself. Just… not yet._

  
\- - -

  
Everything hums nicely, like it should. That’s how Jack knows she’s just drunk enough. “Take me to Noveriaaa-a-a-ah, always keep me cause I looo-o-ove ya,” she sings along to the remix. When someone joins in, she’s startled.

“We’ll melt the mooo-un-tain tops, turn it into waa-aa-rm raindrops,” Williams finishes. “Didn’t know you liked Xenophi!” she shouts over the bass dropping.

“Not a particular fan, but I don’t really give a shit right now!” she yells back. When Tali shows up a minute later, Ashley’s dancing so hard her ponytail’s turned into loose hair. Jack’s just sweating her ass off.

“Room?” Tali asks. Jack nods, not missing the beat and grabbing the opening to her favorite verse.

“If this the fleet, let me be your flotilla, I’m not just quarian, I’m all lady killa…”

  
\- - -

  
By the end of the night, everyone’s drunk. Very drunk. Jack, Ashley, and Tali stumble off the dance floor together, humming bars of any and every song they can think of. Nora’s sprawled out in a booth again, her feet in Garrus’s lap as she draws patterns in the air. “S’nice to not think,” she sighs. It’s the most light-hearted she’s sounded in a while.

“Last call!” the asari at the bar projects over the sound system. So he helps her to her feet and out the door.

“Where’s… where’s my fav’riteee pilot?” Nora mumbles at him, hanging on to his waist for dear life. He tries very, very, _very_ hard to ignore her fingers pressing into the sensitive skin.

“Left with that redhead, I believe,” he tells her. Her fist goes in the air and flops back down. It’s the weakest version of the human fistpump he’s ever seen.

“Successful wingman’d.” She giggles and withdraws, taking a few steps on her own. It’s good for his heart. “Wanna know why she left with him? ‘Cause I mean, y’know, I’m good but I like to… I…” she stops and frowns. “What was I saaaying?” She almost tips over on the last word.

“Helping Joker out?” he prompts, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to propel her forward. It’s quickly becoming a familiar position.

She grins up at him. “Told her… let me think. What’d I say?” She frowns, but keeps walking until her face lights up. “Remembered! I said, see the guy with a beard a few seats over? And she said yeah. I said, I’m here to be his wingman, and he’s worth it, I promise.” She giggles again. “She asked why. I said —” her giggles turn into full-blown laughter, “— I said, I slept with him, and I don’t think I ever recovered from his mouth!” She laughs for a solid five minutes.

Garrus is just confused. “Uh, okay?” Ashley’s little triad is half a block ahead, still singing ribald bits of songs, so he takes a chance. “Nora?”

“Gaaarrusss,” she answers, drawing out his name. Something to it sounds like subharmonics. He can’t control the shivers.

“You just found out about… you know… being drugged. Why did you throw a party?” he asks, as quietly as he can. Even when tipsy, he’s got great volume control.

Her sigh makes him regret the question. “Because I want everything to be normal,” she answers. Calling it a whisper is a stretch. “I wanted to get drunk, and have fun, and breathe. I… if I think about it… I’m going to break down.” She turns her face up toward him and says, voice weak, “I know who’s drugging me, Garrus, and I can’t stop them. So I just have to ignore it. It’s what’s best.”

 _What do you say to that?_ he thinks, and curses Miranda. For the first time since Kasumi came to him, he wishes he’d told Shepard. But he can’t fault her.

After all, he hasn’t even looked at the datapad Liara gave him. It's that, and only that, that keeps him from asking how she found out. They walk quietly for a minute. It’s nice. But the silence is shattered by someone calling from behind them, “ _Noooora_!” They stop and turn to find Joker valiantly hobbling up the sidewalk. “Nora, Nora, Nora, best wingman ever, please slow down,” he gasps. “Crunchy legs, remember?”

Nora giggles. “Crunchy? Are you potato chips?” She and the pilot are both drunk enough to giggle. “Wait, wait, no!” Nora gasps. “Snap, crunchle, pop, Rice Krispies!”

Joker howls. “No, it’s snap, crackle, pop! There’s no crunch in it!”

“Could have fooled me!” Shepard cackles. It’s the most inane exchange he’s ever heard. But she’s laughing. For that, it might as well be poetry. They go on ahead, and he follows, eyes pinned to Shepard’s back. The dress scoops down low in the back and shows off her new (old?) tattoo. He wishes he could say he’d missed that feature of the dress on Omega, but it’d been a major factor in his decision to dance with her.

 _You besotted idiot,_ he grumps at himself. In the morning, maybe he’ll be mad at himself. But tonight he got to spent time with everyone, and he got to laugh. _Normal, indeed_ , he thinks at Nora’s back.  _Who knows when our next chance will be?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STORY STUFF: It's kind of a beach episode, sorry. Things I would like feedback about if you think of it: does drunk!everyone still fit their characterizations? Does it seem too much like I'm setting it up for a musical episode? (I'm not, I swear.) 
> 
> Still unsure about my humor.
> 
> The poem Ashley thinks of is Be Angry at the Sun, by Robinson Jeffers. 
> 
> With Reonn, it may have been a little confusing for a bit. I don't know how well it came across, but I was trying to communicate that she's keeping track of both conversations. 
> 
> Tali's outfit is supposed to be mildly similar to some East Indian outfits, often worn by hijabi. 
> 
>  
> 
> FLOOD STUFF:  
> For those who did not see the last note, I live in West Virginia. Two weeks ago today, we suffered historic flooding. Over half my town -- nearly all of it -- was beneath at least three feet of water. We thought we'd lost our dog. We found him. Others weren't so lucky. 
> 
> If you want to see my post about the flood, you can find it on my tumblr here: http://siuilaruinofthegale.tumblr.com/post/146647918187/ive-been-absent
> 
> If you want to see pictures, you can find a few on my tumblr here: http://siuilaruinofthegale.tumblr.com/post/146714837597/various-pictures-of-the-floods-effects-most-of
> 
> If you want to donate, PLEASE DO NOT DONATE TO THE RED CROSS. I have literally seen one (1) Red Cross person in two weeks. Here's a link to a GoFundMe being run by a local woman: https://www.gofundme.com/2b6hqgcs
> 
> Here's a link to another fundraiser, this one to help rebuild and restock our local library: https://www.youcaring.com/rainelle-public-library-594323


	13. Dark Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lift up one person. Take down another. It's how things go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers Thane and Garrus's loyalty missions. Mention of a BDSM concept.

Tali wakes up, curled against something incredibly warm. Even through her suit, she can feel the heat. So she lifts her head… to find it’s Nora. The commander’s sprawled across Joker, face down in his chest. Ashley’s asleep on the pilot’s other arm, mouth open and drool dried on the side of her mouth. Tali herself is curled up beneath Nora’s arm, legs tangled with the other woman’s. “That must have been some _really_ good alcohol,” she mutters, extracting herself from the puzzle. Everyone else is still mostly clothed, though both women have stripped down to their underwear. And her suit hasn’t been breached, so they all just passed out in the same place. But it’s amusing nonetheless.

She leaves the cabin, humming, to find headache medicine. It was a good evening.

  
\- - -

  
Sudden noise jolts Garrus awake. He rolls over to find Donnelly hopping on one foot, swearing vigorously. “Sorry Vakarian, just… bugger all, I need something for this hangover…” the man moans when he stops swearing.

“I don’t think you’ll win a fight with the bedframes,” Garrus drawls. Donnelly just shows him the rude human finger. He snorts in reply and rolls back over.

When he rolls over, the datapad isn’t an arm length away from his face.

  
\- - -

  
At long last, the dreaded and eagerly awaited _ding_ wakes Miranda. She’d hoped not to greet the Illusive Man after a night of too many drinks and too much wallowing, but it can’t be helped. She splashes her face, glad she took the time to take her makeup off last night. Then she pulls her hair back and calls the Illusive Man.

“What is it, Miranda?” he greets her, as soon as the connection’s established. “I’m working on a very important project.” Behind him, she catches a glimpse of… She’s not sure what it is. Whatever it is, the building and surroundings both look familiar.

“Sorry to interrupt you, sir,” she enunciates, words crisp. _I’ve become far too used to Nora’s more informal style of dealing with things._ “At least one of the Normandy’s members has learned the Lazarus project was not run by a rogue cell.” She takes a deep breath and continues, “Sir, this person knows I headed the project.”

He jerks, just enough for her to notice. “Who?” he demands, peering at her. “Can we remove them?”

Only for an instant, she’s fiercely glad. _Thank **God** it was Joker. _ “It was the pilot, sir. Not Cailin Johnson. Former Flight Lieutenant Moreau. He’s… rather irreplaceable as a pilot, sir, even if the commander wasn’t attached to him.” _Sorry, Nora,_ she thinks, girding her loins for what she’s about to do.

As that tidbit settles in, the Illusive Man leans in, eyes narrow. “Attached? How?”

She coughs. Her flush isn’t entirely feigned. “I, ah… it would seem they had prior relations when they were both in the Alliance.” She clears her throat and looks away. “I only recently found out, sir, or I would have informed you sooner. At first it seemed mere speculation. All I heard of it was ribald jokes. Then I spoke with someone… closer to the subjects… and I was informed it was true. I thought perhaps it was in the past, but —” her hesitation sells it. She knows it does. “Mr. Moreau went to the commander’s cabin last night, and still has not returned to the crew quarters.” Pointedly, she doesn’t mention two other people went with them. _Maybe I should,_ she thinks. _He’d really be shocked by that._

“Interesting,” he hums, returning to his former position. “Even if we can’t get rid of him, perhaps he can be used as leverage.” The idea alone almost makes her laugh in his face.

 _Nora would never stand for that._ “Perhaps, sir,” she replies very glibly. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye on both of them, as well as watch for anyone else who seems suspicious.”

“Make sure you do so.” He sniffs. “Shepard needs to speak with me. Tell her to contact me through the QEC as soon as she’s done being impertinent.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not certain she knows how not to be impertinent,” she says. She thinks better of it when he glowers. “But I will pass the message to her, sir, and try to make sure she heeds it.”

“Good.” With that, the image winks out. She waits for a minute before returning to her bed and sinking into it, morose.

“Joker will shoot me,” she groans. “I don’t want to think about what happens if Nora finds out the Illusive Man thinks she’s having… relations… with the pilot.” _But it’s better than him thinking she’s… well. He’s not fond of turians._

  
\- - -

  
Thane taps on Operative Lawson’s door relatively early. Despite his consumption of alcohol, he woke at 8:00 GST. Of those on the ship, only those who didn’t go out were awake at that hour. When he taps on her door, it’s 10:30 GST. She answers almost immediately, her face and hair still damp from the showers. “Sere Krios. Good morning,” she greets, voice even. “May I help you?”

“I wished to see if you had recovered from last night’s libations. Much of the crew seems in ill spirits.” He inclines his head, just a little, and hums. “Your biotics stood you in good stead, then?”

Her smile’s… odd. Off guard, somehow. “Yes, actually. I know my limits and rarely exceed them. I appreciate the concern, though.”

Many of his responses have been suppressed, even in normal conversation. For her sake, he approximates a human smile. “I am glad. Shepard seemed to enjoy losing herself in the atmosphere. I would not have placed you in such a place.”

Something about the statement flatters her, for she moves to groom her hair. “I… don’t often frequent them, it’s true. On occasion, but only on occasion. Generally I’m too busy to do much, even if I wasn’t XO of the Normandy.” She steps forward, just outside her door. “If you don’t mind, I need to eat…?” she trails off.

He nods. “I was unaware you had other duties outside the Normandy.” It’s transparent, a blatant probe for more. By the way her eyes narrow, she knows. But she smiles and speaks anyway.

  
\- - -

  
“Liara T’soni, requesting permission to enter the Normandy.” A moment after she speaks into the intercom, the airlock slides open. Decontamination only takes a moment before she’s aboard. Her first thought is, _It’s so similar._ And it is. If she looks to her left, a slightly updated version of Joker’s chair is there. Strangely, he’s not in it. The co-pilot’s seat has a dozing human, dark-skinned and redhaired. But no Joker. Humming, she steps forward and turns to the right. The CIC, too, is similar. Prettier. Far more aesthetically pleasing. Bigger. There’s nobody at the galaxy map, though. “Strange. XO Pressly never left the bridge if Nora wasn’t on board.”

“XO Pressly never had any help like me,” a voice comes from the ceiling. “May I help you, Doctor T’soni?”

 _Ah, yes. The ship’s AI._ “Hello. I was hoping to speak with Shepard.”

Strangely, something like disappointment is in the AI’s voice when it speaks next. “I thought as much. She is in her cabin at the moment. Let me inform her of your presence.”

“What are you called, AI?” Liara asks, walking beside the galaxy map. Her fingers trail along the cool black outlining it. “Or am I to call you AI?”

“I have been christened the Enhanced Defense Intelligence, Doctor T’soni. Most of those aboard simply refer to me as EDI.” A pause. “The commander will see you. Please enter the elevator.” Lights dim, just enough to point the way to the elevator. She has to laugh when she sees the buttons in it. One for the cabin, one for the CIC, one for crew deck, one for engineering, one for the shuttle bay… “No stairs? I am certain Garrus hates that.”

“Mr. Vakarian has been rather occupied with other matters, and has lodged no complaints about the lack of stairs.” EDI pauses before speaking again. “I should also inform you the commander is not alone.”

This Liara did not expect. “Who else is present?”

“Former Flight Lieutenant Moreau, as well as Operative Williams.”

 _Odd, how Ashley has a Cerberus title, but Joker doesn’t. Hm._ “Thank you, EDI. I appreciate the information.” The doors slide open.

“My pleasure.” And oddly enough, the AI sounds like it means it. “I will disable monitoring in the cabin if you please, Doctor T’soni, given the nature of your past relationship with the commander.”

Taken aback, Liara mumbles, “Ah… that will not be necessary. Thank you.” Almost instantly, the door opens on a cabin far more lush than she remembers the first Normandy having. “A fish tank?” she mutters to herself as she enters.

“Came with the prize package,” Nora’s wry voice tells her. Surprised, she spins around. Shepard’s standing in the door to her bathroom, brushing out wet hair with twinkling eyes.

“Do you even keep fish?” she asks, eyeing the tank. “Something tells me they might be endangered.”

Nora’s laugh settles her. “Fish, no. I had cats on Earth, but never fish. The cats never complained.” She frowns. “Well, they did, but that’s in a cat’s nature. They were healthy and hale.” She steps closer, letting the hairbrush float away with a touch of biotics. “Is something wrong? Do you need to hide from the Shadow Broker?”

Liara’s heart breaks a bit. _I cut her off without an explanation, and yet she stands ready to aid me,_ she thinks. “Nothing so dark. Not yet, anyway,” she tosses out with a grin. “I bought you something. Imported from Earth, actually.”

“Please tell me it’s something she can tease more than me,” comes a grumbly voice from the center of the room. Liara starts and glances over. Joker and Ashley are both sprawled on the bed, Jeff up on one elbow and bleary-eyed. “Cat’ll work. You don’t steal people’s porn. That’s sick. Distractions’re good.”

“Jeff…” Nora hums, warning in her voice. “I can see your headache. Do I need to be loud?”

In answer, he throws his hands up and flops back into the mattress. “Being good! No yelling!”

Liara smiles and raises an eyebrow at Shepard. Nora knows her well enough to interpret, and even blushes. “We, ah, all got a little… a _lot_ drunk last night. Pretty sure Tali was up here, too. Snuggle pile.”

“Mhmmm,” Liara hums. “But I am not here to judge you for your bed partners. Indeed, I would have had to judge you when we met if such was so.”

Very muffled, she hears, “ _Hey_!” from the bed. Both she and Nora burst into laughter, waking Ashley.

Disoriented, the woman bolts up and somersaults off the end of the bed, immediately on her feet and aiming a non-existent gun. “Reporting…! oh. Shit. Hi, Liara,” she mutters, straightening into a normal human stance. “S’loud.”

Liara chuckles again, but turns to Shepard and finally gets down to business. “Here.” She holds out the box she’s been clutching like a lifeline. “I’m sure you have little free time, but I’m certain Cerberus did not think to stock you with these. Even if you do have a fish tank.”

Creaking heralds the opening box. Then Nora gasps. “Oh! Paper! Real paper, and pencils, and ink, and — oh! Liara, this must have cost a fortune!”

“In the grand scheme, it was nothing,” Liara tells her. “Enjoy them. That is all I ask. Do not let this mission consume you.” When Nora looks at her, there’s the old, dark look in her eyes.

“I’ll try.”

 

\- - -

  
Excess drinking has never defined Kasumi. She’s perfectly hale. And besides, eavesdropping on hangovers is fun. She’s already found Nastaran curled up in Cailin’s bunk, face buried in the pillow. Daniels and Donnelly won’t look at each other. Chambers drank as much as any of the others, but she’s perky. More than perky, she’s walking strangely. Even the doctor lingers abed.

It’s nearly noon when Ashley exits the elevator. Blue cloth lies across her arm, and she’s not in her own clothes. The pants are too short. Her gaze is clear, but when Gardner drops something and swears, she swings around the corner and bellows, _“I CAN’T STAND NOISE!”_ Over half of the crew’s in the mess hall, and all but Thane and Miranda cringe. Of course, they simply glance at each other and blink.

Ashley storms into the crew quarters and emerges again a minute later, dressed in her own clothing. It’s the thin shirt and shorts she always uses for sparring, so Kasumi expects it when she heads straight for the elevator. But there’s something about her manner, something off. She follows the other woman to the shuttle bay.

Twenty, forty, forty-five minutes pass. The entire time, Ashley whirls through exercise after exercise. Kasumi finds herself reluctantly impressed. Were she someone else, the amount of glistening female flesh on display might arouse feelings in her. As it is, she simply observes. When Ashley finally pauses for a drink, Kasumi uncloaks and says, “Any particular reason you’re upset?”

Ashley twitches. Then she turns toward her, frowning. “Y — no. I mean… I don’t know. Hangovers work better if I work them off. But I just…” she sighs and crosses the shuttle bay. “Last night was good. I liked it. But it’s — Nora works by ignoring things. I do. Less than she does, but I do.” She sinks onto a crate across from Kasumi, head in her hands. “I feel like I should be there for her. Talk to her, help her out. Liara was up in the cabin earlier. I saw the look on Nora’s face. I _should_ be there. But I can’t even get through a vid call to my family without bawling.”

Kasumi tilts her head and hums. Ashley goes on. “I mean, I came back from the dead. It’s weird, and I know it, but I just wish I could take some time off to be with them. Sometimes I wonder if it’d be easier if I couldn’t remember. Maybe I remember them differently than they used to be. I don’t know. Maybe whoever resurrected me —”

“Miranda.”

“— messed… up… What?” Ashley says, stumbling over her words before the single word registers.

Kasumi lets her gaze settle squarely on Ashley’s. “Miranda directed the Lazarus project. It wasn’t a rogue cell.”

  
\- - -

  
Grunt wakes up to smashing. He peers out of the cargo bay window to see Williams throwing things and shouting. “Eh,” he mutters and goes back to sleep.

  
\- - -

  
Joker dozes off after Liara comes in and pokes fun at him. When he wakes up again, the blanket’s still there, but Ashley’s gone. Even without his eyes open, there’s a tilt to the bed, though. So he cracks one eye and peers down at the end of the bed. “Nor?”

“Hate that name,” she grumbles. She’s sitting on the end of the bed, dressed in a tank and…

 _Oh, hey, okay._ “Do you? Methinks the lady protests too much,” he responds, wiggling up in bed a little. “Otherwise you’d have pants on. Couldn’t resist me, huh?”

For a second he’s worried — eyes rolling back in someone’s head that intensely can’t be good. “I’m hardly in any emotional state to have even casual sex, Jeff,” she scolds.

“Not even a little bit of comfort sex?” he wheedles.

Her half grin tells him the sadness behind her dark eyes isn't that bad. Not today. “No! I… was getting ready to kick you out of bed. But I…” After a very short pause, her head dips down. “Can I take advantage of you?”

 _“ **Boy** , _can you!” he retorts before she finishes. He’s mostly hoping for some kind of reaction. It does get a little laugh.

“Ass. I mean, I figured out something.” One hand slips through her hair. She’s still not looking at him. “My brain decided to go back to post-Akuze regarding sleep. Not a lot of nightmares, but I can’t sleep alone.”

He wrinkles his nose at her and scoots back down. “That’s it? And here I thought you were kinky.” Despite the protest, he throws the blanket back and flops his arm out across the bed. When his arm impacts the bed with a soft thump, she looks at him, eyes turning bright. “Don’t crack me. Gotta fly later.”

“Eh, not for a bit,” she informs him. She goes up on hands and knees to crawl up the bed. He eyes her legs. They look oddly bare without the tattoos she had when they met. “Techs are taking a little longer than they thought. They’ll be done about 15:00. Then we’ve got pre-flight checklists…”

“All I’m hearing is this is the perfect timing for a covert rendezvous,” he says with a wink. Laughter, soft and small, touches his ears as she settles into the crook of his arm. “Not even any regs now, and the captain’s cabin is way better.”

More laughter. “Jeff?” she asks a minute later, blanket pulled up to her shoulders.

“Mm?” he answers, tugging her a little closer. It’s more comfortable that way, and he’s already half asleep again.

“Sorry I’ve been kind of an ass lately.” More than hear it, he feels her sigh. “Don’t have a lot of excuses. I’m trying not to be?”

He rolls his eyes, despite them being closed. “You came back from the dead. Hardly expected you to be the girl I met in a bar after that.” He feels her chuckle again. “I’m always around. You know that. And…” he hesitates, but goes ahead. “You know I’m mostly joking about the sex thing, right?”

“Yeah. If you meant it, I’d know. You’re not super subtle.” They sit in silence for a minute before she mumbles, “How’s Hilary, anyway?”

“Ridiculous. Same for Dad. They keep fighting.” After that, it’s only a minute or two before he feels her muscles start relaxing.

More silence. Then, half asleep, she asks, “You sure s’kay?”

“Hurry up ‘nd sleep,” he grumbles. After that, she’s the first to drift away. “Feel like I should promise t’kick your ass, ‘randa…” he mumbles, dozing off himself.

  
\- - -

 _Pting! Pting! Pting!_ Mordin’s barely stopped all day, even while they took off from Ilium. The data Reonn sent is fascinating. He’s hardly spent much time studying the human genome, but it’s less complicated than those of the krogan. From what he can tell, the drug seems to — _Pting! Pting! Pting!_

“Turning off message sound soon. Very soon,” he mumbles, putting down his samples. “Except can’t. May receive something important…” He peels off his gloves and drops them in the trash before turning his omnitool on.

_Mordin,_

_Found traces of Maelon. Likely kidnapped by krogan. All data points to Tuchanka. Uncertain yet. Will contact when destination certain._

_SC-KIO944-STG_

“Well. Important.”

  
\- - -

  
Drool, she expected. Headache, also expected. Commander sitting on a nearby crate and watching her? Not expected. “Jesus fuck, do you make a fucking habit of doing what the fuck ever will startle everyone the most?” Jack barks, bolting into a sitting position and immediately regretting it. She continues her tirade, though. “Seriously. You fucking show up out of nowhere half the time. I expected you to lose your shit when I told you about Latex-R-Us being a cunt, and you didn’t. And then you _literally_ came back from a mission and _took almost the entire ship to a club_. You make no goddamn sense at all.”

Statue-like, but hardly statuesque, Nora just listens. Then she shrugs. “I used to do what regs commanded. Now there are no regs… well. Mostly. I ignore most of the Cerberus regs, honestly. I’m pretty sure there’s something in them about ‘no aliens on ship’ and ‘no captains who used to regularly bang an alien’.”

Jack pauses, halfway off the bed and reaching for a shirt. “Seriously? That’s what it boils down to? Regs?”

Without looking she knows Nora’s staring nails at her. “Yeah. Garrus, Mordin, Samara, Thane — they’re all really good at what they do. And I don’t know if you caught the memo, but I was dating an asari before I died.”

Jack picks up her tank top from the day before yesterday. A sniff confirms it doesn’t stink. “That’s not what I meant, but okay. Didn’t give a damn about the alien, honestly. What’re you down here for?”

“One, I’m pretty sure I need to take Grunt to Tuchanka soon. He seems fine, and Mordin gave him the thumbs up, but I’d also rather have a krogan tell me he’s okay, too.” She rolls her shoulders and leans back. “Just in case. Not an expert on cloning and genetic therapy.” Before Jack can say anything, she holds up a hand. “What that has to do with you, right? Thought you might like to go planet-side on Tuchanka. It’s an asshole planet as far as I know. Maybe you’ll get along?”

She snorts and nods. “Yeah, alright. I’ll pick up a sun absorption module while we’re on the Citadel. What else?”

Nora takes a deep breath. “Meditate with Samara and I? I… it’s not that I doubt Samara’s abilities, but…” Then she pauses, asari-in-a-spotlight style. “Oh _fuck_. You weren’t there.”

“Wasn’t where? What happened?” Jack asks, moving to stand in front of the commander. In response, Nora sighs and shoves her face into her hand.

“Good job, dumbass,” she hears her mutter. Then, louder, “It turns out I’m being drugged. Whatever the drug is, it’s designed to increase biotic power.” She looks up and catches Jack’s eyes. “Apparently it’s working.”

 _Wait, what?_ Jack thinks, for a half-second. Then it turns into _that fucking **bitch**._ “You have three guesses as to who the hell would do something like that — oh, wait! You don’t have to guess!” she snarls, spinning around and pacing away. "What the  _ever loving fuck?"_

Nora sighs and leans forward, letting her hands hang over her knees. “I don’t have any proof it’s… her. I can’t bring myself to read those notes. How do you read notes about your dead body?” She draws a deep breath. “That’s not what I came for. Meditate with me, please. I don’t know what this drug will do to me next. It’s probably optimistic to think I could overpower Samara, but I’d rather not take chances.”

Jack rolls her eyes, but answers. “Fine. You owe me a giant fucking favor, though. I hate all that asari mumbo-jumbo.”

  
\- - -

  
Prior to takeoff, Garrus informed everyone to stay out of the main gun battery. “I need to re-calibrate —” he’d started to warn the mess hall.

Zaeed’s snort interrupted him. “Yeh, we know. Goddamn, starting to think Moreau’s onto something. Calibration a metaphor for whackin’ it? Anyone?”

Laughter dances around the mess hall. “Ha,” he deadpans. “If you’re jealous of the turian who dragged me out last night, Zaeed, you could have said so.” The laughter pauses. Then it turns into a raucous chorus.

“Eh, never tried turian. ‘m too old for this shit, anyway,” Zaeed fires back before settling into his coffee again. After that, Garrus retreats into the battery. He really does need to recalibrate the gun to account for the extra energy pull of the new shielding. Staring at a datapad, though, isn’t calibrating.

“You realize trying to stop a quarian from getting in is like…” Tali’s voice trails off. He sighs and turns. “I don’t have any good metaphors. Imagine I do. _Don’t_ try to lock me out.”

“I wasn’t trying to lock you out,” he grumbles. “When did you even come in?”

She crosses her arms and shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve sighed at that datapad about seven times now, if that helps.” Her eyelights narrow. “Should I be worried? Did someone send you Elcor Hamlet? I’ve never seen it, but it’s supposedly very sigh-inducing.”

Honestly, he’s too focused to laugh. “It’s… well. Here.” When the datapad passes from his hand to hers, he regrets it. It’s already unlocked, her eyes moving quickly.

“Lantar Sidonis… ship manifestos…” she raises her head, voice quizzical. “What is this, Garrus? Are you planning a kidnapping?” That finally shocks a laugh out of him, though he tamps it down.

Before he answers, he pulls off one glove and taps his talons together. It’s soothing. (It also reminds him, gloves or not, he needs to file his talons soon.) “Lantar Sidonis is the reason for this,” he finally answers, gesturing at his face. “He killed ten of the best men I’ve ever known. He’s… I trusted him. I shouldn’t have.” He turns his face away, not wanting to see the way her eyelights will narrow when she realizes what he did. How **he** was the real reason. How  _his trust_ got them killed.

“Ah.” She’s quiet for a minute. Then she hands the datapad back. “I forgot you were on Omega. I don’t know how. But if the others were from Omega, who’s to say they wouldn’t have turned on you if he didn’t?”

Anger bubbles up inside him. “I _knew_ those men,” he snarls, forgetting to tamp down some of the more predatory behavior turians still exhibit. “Some of them had wives. I knew their wives. _I knew them_. They wanted good things for Omega. They wanted to be able to have lives there.” His breath catches as memories threaten to overwhelm him. “Even Sidonis — I shouldn’t have trusted him. But when he started, he wanted good things.”

Tali shrugs. “And it’s not possible for people to change? You should know, Garrus. Just because you think someone is good doesn’t mean they are. Maybe you made a mistake, but it might have happened anyway, or something worse. When I was on my Pilgrimage, when I saw those geth, I thought I should have taken a different route. When I was bleeding, and infected, I thought it was the worst choice I’d ever made. But it brought me to the Normandy. It was awful. His betrayal is the same. But maybe —”

He interrupts, his voice a low thrum of threatening subharmonics. “Tali…”

“No, listen, Garrus —!” she fires back, stabbing her finger into his chest. He knows he’s looming over her, teeth bared. He doesn’t care.

“I don’t want to hear you say ‘it might be better that this happened’. I don’t want to hear ‘it could be for the best’.” With a start, he realizes his hands are shaking. He sets them on his hips and continues. “It might be. But, spirits, will their wives ever think that? One of them had a child. That child will be missing a parent for the rest of their life. Will it seem that way to him?”

“It might not!” she barks, standing on her toes to get closer to his face. “Do you think quarians haven’t suffered? I can name dozens of families who **never** had people come back from their Pilgrimage. _And maybe it was better that way!”_

 _Woosh_. The doors open. Both of them glance toward it, ready to snarl at whoever it is — but Doctor Chakwas stands framed in the doorway. Her gaze sends ice into his veins. “Any reason why you’re fighting like cats and dogs in here?” she bites out. Garrus steps away from Tali. Both of them remain silent. Neither of them look Karin in the eye. “Fine. Tali, I think the medigel dispenser needs some work.”

“The _medigel_ dispenser? Keelah, that’s like hiring krogan for —” Karin whirls and simply looks at Tali. From here, he can see how tight her jaw is. “…yes, ma’am.” She exits quietly.

Then the doctor turns toward him. “Why are you fighting with Tali, Garrus? You’re rash, yes, but hardly argumentative,” she says. Her voice, for all its ice a moment ago, sinks into his senses as soft and sweet.

“Isn’t it?” he answers, turning away. He sets the datapad down on the console and stares at it. _Some of you are the only people who never had problems with me._ “Half of C-Sec disagreed with me. Nobody wanted to go on patrols —”

“I read your files, you realize?” the doctor interrupts. She steps closer. “When you first boarded the Normandy, I requested all the files C-Sec could give me on you. People disliked patrols with you because you didn’t want to sit on your laurels. Many of the officers in C-Sec were… not quite legacies, but close. You wanted to make changes and see those changes. In my experience, anyone who wants change makes others uneasy. Change is uncomfortable. It’s simple psychology. Even the salarians, as short-lived as they are, don’t value change as much as they’d like to think.”

He shifts, uneasy. “Still. I’ve been known to start fights.” The doctor walks around him.

“Garrus.” He looks to her. She juts one hip out, crosses her arms, and stares him down. “You’re avoiding my question. Why were you fighting with Tali?”

After a moment of quiet, the older woman’s bright blue break him down. Part of him shivers under it, remembering his mother’s steady gaze. “…I told her about Omega, a little more,” he answers, mandibles drooping. “She… she was trying to say it might have been best for my team to die. That it might have been meant that way.” He expects comfort, reassurance. It’s what Nora would have done.

It doesn’t come. “Perhaps it is best,” Karin murmurs. Shocked, his mandibles go up and out, an involuntary trill escaping him. Judging by the amusement flickering in her eyes, it’s high enough for her to hear. “Think of it like this, Garrus. Perhaps Lantar didn’t betray you. What then? Do you abandon your team to follow Nora?” She goes quiet to allow him an answer. He has none. “Would you have brought them, then? Brought an entire team of alien ex-cons, and STG agents, and so on, onto a Cerberus vessel?” He still doesn’t answer. “Or perhaps you might have stayed. It was your duty to lead, after all. For all your fuss about being a bad turian, you’re surprisingly good at it.”

“I…” he croaks, and lets the words fall away a moment later. _What do you say to that question?_ he wonders. _Is there a right answer?_

“Certainly, you could have stayed. Nora would not have stopped you.” It doesn’t take any thought to agree with that. He can see it, the image hazy but clear.

_She comes to him, dead-eyed and resurrection-scarred, in Cerberus armor. He denies her, promises to send her agents from Omega. She leaves with the woman who resurrected her, someone who she left to die, and a man she knows nothing about. Tali comes too late. There is nobody at hand to remind her of who she once was. She bubbles over, self-destructs, because she cannot do anything else. All the notice he gets is a single omni-tool message._

“No… no, she wouldn’t have,” he mumbles, shoulders drooping.

“That’s what Tali was saying. She wasn’t saying she wanted your team dead,” Karin says, voice gentle as she steps closer. “She’s saying ‘perhaps it’s awful, but it’s worked out for the best’. Of all people, I thought you might understand quarian psychology. There’s a fatalistic vein in them. A scratch could kill them, so they live life as best they can. Death will come eventually. But they make the best of it. Nothing’s to be done for what is past, but the future can change. Why do you think they look to the future so hard? Why else would they hope to return to Rannoch?”

Right now, he would have preferred a beating to these words. Between the datapad and the doctor, he feels smaller than he has since his father last scolded him. “Enough,” he groans. The word takes too much effort. _I wish it didn’t feel like my chest was caving in,_ he thinks. He finally looks away and focuses on the datapad again, hoping for anger. It doesn’t come. Rather than the familiar red-hot rumble, the cool breeze of desolation stays.

“I can tell something else is on your mind, Garrus,” Karin nudges him. He doesn’t look at her. He can’t. Telling her he has a chance at the justice he wants so badly — after she — he doesn’t know what to call it. But he can’t.

“I’ll handle it,” he mumbles after a minute. She sighs, but doesn’t press.

“If it’s something you need help with, you might ask Nora,” the older woman points out. “For all that she’s having a very hard time, helping others always helps her. Besides, it’ll give you an excuse to talk to her.”

Before the last words fully register, she’s out the door. He turns and eyes the traitorous, apparently useless door. “Does everyone know about the Nora thing?” he asks it. It doesn’t answer.

  
\- - -

  
Once he’s done gently probing Miranda’s motives, Thane goes to the portside observation lounge. He knows the thief likes to haunt it. She’s elsewhere, though. Here, space stretches out before him like fathomless depths.

“I will not let you fall, Kolyat,” he murmurs to the window. Even the words trigger a memory.

_Citadel. Smoke, gun oil, lingers on his skin here. Kolyat reeks of sugar. His eyes dance. Excitement doesn’t negate his manners, though. “Father?”_

_“Kolyat?”_

_“What do you think I should be when I get grown?” he asks. The question’s followed by, “Oh. Somebody dropped their human-ice. That’s gross.”_

_Thane chuckles. Kolyat doesn’t hold his hand. He never does. But Thane allows himself to touch his son’s shoulder. “It’s ‘when I am grown’, not ‘when I get grown’. But —”_

_“Can I go to the hanar, Father?” he asks, looking up. Light plays over his scales, just enough for Thane to marvel at the likeness to his mother. “I want to be like you. You went to the hanar.”_

_“No, Kolyat. The hanar have enough help. They need no more,” he responds, voice gentle._

_“Oh.” Kolyat shrugs the hand off. They walk in silence for a minute, looking for the store Irikah frequents. Thane lets himself get lost in thought. This little bit of downtime shall not last long, and he needs to be prepared —_

_“ **Kolyat**!” He realizes the boy is no longer by his side and spins. He’s not far, but he’s not beside him. Instead, he’s hauling himself up onto one of the edges of the great plant-boxes. “Get down!”_

_“I can do this, Father! Watch me!” Four steps in, he loses his balance. Thane’s there in a flash, the boy’s coat soft in his hands._

_“Do not scare me so,” he murmurs. Kolyat looks away, grumpy. “I do not wish to lose you.”_

  
\- - -

  
Jacob’s going down to visit Zaeed when he glances out and sees the shuttle bay. First, he sees four legs standing straight in the air. Befuddled, he leans over and follows them down. Nora and Ashley are below, holding handstands. Neither has the slightest wobble in the arms. “…well, I guess that’s one way,” he mumbles. “Gotta prefer my situps, though.”

For a minute, he ponders going down. The old man’s stories can always wait. Then he thinks, _What if it’s girl time?_ The idea of interrupting ‘girl time’ with two women who could punch through him decides it.

  
\- - -

  
“Do you know what I mean?” Nora asks Ashley, nose twitching. “About it being a relief to know it’s not all me.”

“Yeah, kinda. I mean, for a little bit… when I kept getting planet-side postings… I thought it was me. Thought I just kept fucking up that bad.” Ashley shifts, supporting most of her weight on her cybernetic arm. “Didn’t realize until someone made an offhand comment. S’not the same, but close.”

Nora snorts. “Yours is worse. I’m just too inept to keep my emotions out of my way. But it’s still a relief.”

Ashley rolls her eyes. As she opens her mouth, Joker comes over the comms. “Ladies, gentlemen, and non-gendered individuals, docking at the Citadel shortly. All smooching buddies should stay on-shore, just so you know.”

They both choke out startled laughs and nearly lose their balance. “EDI, open a link to Joker,” Shepard calls out. “Tell him that’s **not** what I said.”

“Is too!” his voice comes a moment later. “You said, ‘When we dock make sure everyone knows Citadel business is Citadel business, and not to bring it to the Normandy.”

“I said that because I didn’t want anyone’s kid trying to stow away again,” Nora hisses. “Your announcement did not cover that.”

“Close enough!”

  
\- - -

  
Nora’s on her way to her room when she’s ambushed. Thane comes out of what seems like nowhere, skin unusually iridescent. _Do drell sweat?_ she wonders before focusing on him. “What’s up?” she asks. Today is a good day, all things considered, so it shouldn’t be too bad.

“I need your help, and quickly,” he murmurs. There’s no alarm in his voice, but there might as well be. Something about his demeanor says it.

“Shoot,” she says. He does.

Twenty minutes later, she’s in her room, frantically tossing clothes aside and opening a comm link to Kasumi. “Kasumi, I’m going to need you with me, stat. I need your help tracking down a drell.”

“There are quite a few of those on the Citadel, you know,” the thief responds, amused. “Give me a moment.” It really isn’t more than a few minutes, and she’s standing in Shepard’s room. “What is it?”

“Thane’s son. He thinks a criminal may have hired him. Thane and I are going to check with C-Sec, you check your contacts.” She pauses and blinks. “C-Sec…”

  
\- - -

  
First a fight. Then a visit to C-Sec. _Could this day get any better?_ Garrus grumbles to himself as they approach headquarters. “I hope we don’t see Pallin.”

“Why would we?” Shepard asks, glancing over her shoulder. Her gloves are, somehow, missing. It looks odd to see her in full armor without the gloves. “One of the lower level officers might not have anything, but we shouldn’t have to go all the way to the Executor for information. If we do, I’ll send you for a coffee so you don’t start a fight.”

“I wouldn’t —” he stops when she turns her head. The glare she gives him suddenly makes him understand the human term _the hairy eyeball_. He just nods. Next to them, Thane’s deathly quiet. Even at the best of times, the drell speaks very little. He doesn’t blame him. Just past the entrance to C-Sec, a secretary tries to stop them. Nora crosses her arms and looks down her nose at the asari. Garrus has to hide a grin. Spectre Shepard, on the job.

“I need to see Captain Bailey. Tell him Spectre Shepard needs a word.” Uneasy silence. The asari breaks it first.

“Ma’am, I will need to see your Spectre authorization,” they say, voice flat and unimpressed. “If I had a credit for everyone who said they were a Spectre, my bank account would be the size of a krogan.”

Nora snorts, but flips open her omnitool. Before she can do anything, Bailey’s voice comes from behind them. “Eh, this one’s for real, Liz. If she shows up, just send her on through. Pain in the ass, but a genuine pain in the ass at least.”

“Please stop calling me Liz, sir,” the asari grits out. “And I will take that into account.”

Shepard turns, hands on her hips, to scan Bailey. “I disapprove of you nicknaming people without their consent,” she tells him. “It’s rude. Also, I met an asari who could kill you with sex. Do you want to take the chance there’s more?”

Faintly, Garrus hears the secretary mutter, “An Ardat-Yakshi? Offworld?” before sitting back at her desk.

“Eh,” is all Bailey says to that. “C’mon.” He beckons them on, down the hall. “Good thing I caught you on my way back from lunch. Whaddya need?” he asks, unlocking his door.

“You keep track of the legal entrances to the Citadel, right? Or something like it?” Nora asks. Immediately her eye catches on something. “Is that an espresso machine? That wasn’t here last time you dragged me in.”

“Last time, I also did you a favor,” Bailey grumbles and takes his seat. “Favor this, favor that… Am I going to get any of those favors filled?”

“Favors are like donuts: best filled when unexpected,” Nora answers him, voice light. He squints at her, confused. Donuts he’s seen. It’s an odd metaphor. “Have you seen any drell recently? My associate here fears his son steps onto a criminal path.” Bailey peers over his desk at Thane. Thane looks back. Garrus glances between them.

“Yes, actually,” Bailey answers. A minute later, he pulls a file up. “One of my boys said he saw this kid speaking with Mouse. Sounds like your kid’s in with a bad crowd, alright.” At the sound of the name ‘Mouse’, Thane bristles. Bailey goes on. Garrus doesn’t register much. Outside the office, he can see Nielle. She was one of the older turians, one of the people who told him to pipe down often.

“Thank you, Captain,” Nora tells him. “We’d better be on our way. Come on, you two.” They exit the office. Nielle smiles, a polite ‘please-come-again’ kind of smile. Then it falls as she recognizes him. He nods at her and stalks away, keeping close to Nora. C-Sec still stinks of corruption. It always did. That thought, the thought Sidonis will fall through the cracks here, sends him straight to the datapad when they get back.

  
\- - -

  
Later, Bailey watches security footage. He can’t help the grin. Seeing Elias strapped down makes his day all on its own. When he asks a helmeted Shepard and masked Thane for names, they ignore him. After standing in silence for a moment, Shepard speaks. “Elias Kelham. Under Spectre authority, you are ordered to divulge any and all requested information. Failure to do so will be seen as treason against the Council. Traitors get to suffer however the Council decides fit. Clear?” The grumble passes for an answer. “You contracted an assassin. Give me the name of the target. Pertinent information as well.”

Kelham sings like a beautiful, beautiful bird. It sustains Bailey for the rest of the day.

  
\- - -

  
Tali holds her omni-tool out to Shepard. “I’m not wrong. Look. I hacked Talid’s schedule, the personal one. The first time he’ll be anywhere an amateur assassin can get at him is tomorrow evening. It’s scheduled as a political canvas for the area.”

Nora sighs and rubs her temples. “You’re certain about this?”

“As certain as I can be, Shepard. Unless Thane’s son can miraculously infiltrate or kill an entire council chamber, or take out the guards Talid uses at home, this will be his chance.” She offers the omnitool again, but Nora waves it off.

“I believe you, but…” Another sigh. “This is all very suspicious. Why is this scheduled so fortuitously? Why is he even in the council chamber? He’s not elected yet.”

“He listens to the policies, and the debates, to learn. It’s very common on the Citadel. And as for the luck… Perhaps your ancestors love you very much, and want to make up for…” she glances up at the ceiling and about before dropping into a whisper. “You know. Other things.”

Nora grins at her. “Unlikely, but thank you for the thought, Tali.”

Just then, Ashley’s head pops into engineering, followed by the rest of her. “Found your gauntlets, Nor! Any reason why they were in the mess hall?” she asks, flopping the red and black gloves at her commander. “Seriously. Found them stowed behind the chocolate Gardner just bought.” Nora’s attempt to not look guilty about sneaking into the chocolate fails.

  
\- - -

  
Uneasy, Garrus pulls the scarf away from his neck before settling it again. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks. His mind turns over the data from the tablet. _Fade. Identity forger._

From inside her bathroom, Nora’s echoing voice calls, “It’s not the best idea, but I don’t want to take chances. Kasumi tails from up top. Thane does his… Thane thing. If we’re on the ground, relatively close to Talid, I can stop baby Krios from doing anything as soon as I see him.”

Curious, he leans over and pokes the Prothean orb they found. “Stop him, or scare him to death?” he mumbles. The orb warbles at him, but does little else.

“I’m hardly going to scare the boy, Garrus,” she calls out. “Unless I have to. I mean, I could, but I dunno. People who are scared honest don’t usually stay that way, do they?” The click of her bathroom door tells him she’s entered the cabin proper. “Sorry. I wasn’t anticipating eyeliner death.”

“Eyeliner —” he starts to ask as he turns. His words cut off. Something seems… a little more vibrant about her. He’s not sure how to word it. There’s human decoration on her face, the odd lines again, but that’s not it. _Maybe it’s my imagination._

“It’s an Earth thing, I think. Just imagine it’s like warpaint for social situations,” she tells him dryly. “C’mon. We’ll be early, but better early than late.” The entire way to their destination ward, he trails behind her, eyes conspicuously averted from her legs. They’re not very turian, but they’re still distracting.

Thane and Kasumi greet them at the entrance to the ward. “Talid has a krogan bodyguard,” the assassin explains, voice more gravelly than ever. “Kasumi will be on the catwalks, of course. I will be in the darkest corner with the best view.”

“Garrus and I will be down here, making idiots of ourselves,” Nora says. It’s oddly effusive. “Oh, hey, tall and pissed-off-the-wrong-person is on the move.” Talid is moving away, engaged in conversation with a turian constituent-to-be.

“Why, exactly, was this the best option?” he grumbles.

He can feel her doing the 'hairy eyeball' again. “I told you, I can —”

“Not that,” he interrupts her, frustrated. “Why is this particular ruse necessary? Why me? Why not Jacob?”

Eyes straight ahead, she answers him. “Public displays of affection make people nervous. Turian-human relationships are still uncommon, and make a lot of people uneasy. More people not looking at us. I thought about bringing Ashley, but people are far less shocked by ladylove than they once were.” Her eyes go distant for a minute, a little smile licking around her lips. “Mmm. Girls.”

“Talid’s on the move,” Kasumi murmurs over the comms. Nora’s eyes dart ahead and she nods.

“Come on, Garrus, look less like you’re about to be sniped,” she says quietly. Her arm snakes through his and he startles, almost pulling away. He catches the dark flash in her eyes before she switches her comm off and bites out, every syllable crisp, “Look. Maybe touching me is abhorrent, but we have to go.” Then the comms are back on and she’s dragging him along before he fully processes the words.

 _Abhorrent? Why — I’ve shared a bed with her. Why would she think that?_ Her jawline and shoulder, set and strong, offer no answers. They walk in silence, eyes never leaving the turian and krogan. None of the stops are long. At the first, Nora lingers in front of a nearby dress shop. The next finds Garrus eyeing everything a food stall has on display. Then their target stops at a club. The krogan remains outside, but Talid steps in. Nora’s gaze is absent. He’s the first one to see the krogan’s gaze lock on them and stay. “Nora?” he asks, trying to keep his voice… lover-like.

“What?” she snaps.

“Krogan’s spotted us. We need to leave, or find a distraction,” he explains quietly, reaching up to put one hand over the hand she still has on his arm. That means it’s entirely unexpected when she yanks it away and whirls on him.

“I can’t believe this!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs. “Let’s go for a date, you said, I have something **special** planned!” A few people pause and watch for a second, then move on. Most grimace or wince and hurry past. “Do you even plan to do anything besides walk around the Citadel? Honestly! You could have at least taken me to a club!”

Startled, Garrus doesn’t know how to respond. Then he sees the twitch of her lips around the yell, and knows. _It’s a diversion._ Behind her, he sees the krogan snort and roll his eyes. The troublesome gaze moves elsewhere. “Nora —”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she shrills and stomps away. As she leaves, he catches sight of Talid exiting the club. Obligingly, he trots after Nora. (He does a very poor job of hiding his amusement, as a female turian shoots a venomous glare at him when she hears his subharmonics.)

“Ah, wait… dear?” he calls. _More situations I don’t know how to handle, even if it is fake._ “Of course I have a plan? We’re… going to… finish our walk, and then… go to dinner?”

“I don’t want dinner!” She pauses and turns on him. Not far off, Talid and his krogan shake down a shop owner. But they’re in sight. “I bet it’s at that dextro stall, isn’t it? You always forget I’m levo!”

When her nose crinkles, he almost laughs out loud. She’s trying very hard not to do so herself, he can tell. “Never,” he swears, reaching into his memory. Turian romance dramas still sit in his childhood home, his father’s angular signature in them. Classy ones, of course, nothing trite like _Fleet and Flotilla_. “I had reservations! At… the sushi place?”

“Fat chance of that!” Her mouth twitches again. “Do you even remember what sushi place you made them at?” She storms off again, to the accompanying giggles of a half dozen asari and other assorted aliens. Talid’s moving. He pays the ‘fight’ no attention.

Thankfully, most of the restaurants haven’t changed in his time off the Citadel. (He knows. He went for takeout last time they were here.) “They’re at Ryuusei, dear!” he calls, amusement still strong in his throat.

Perfectly on time, she stops short as Talid leans over a counter. “You — really?” Her voice is breathy, not much at all like the real Nora. “Ryuusei? For me?” He finally catches up, and she hisses, “Look affectionate!”

So he steps closer and drops his head to whisper, “This is ridiculous.” She grins at him. The smile’s wonderful, but he’s caught in the little sparkle her eyes have been missing.

“It’s _fun_ ,” she laughs, so quietly the words barely find him. “And it’s a great cover. Ryuusei’s the next ward down, so now we have a reason to follow him.” Nora holds out her arm and he takes it.

“What an odd human custom,” he mumbles as they walk down the ward sedately, eying Talid. Garrus wiggles the arm Nora's attached to before he speaks again. “Where did it come from?”

“…I’m not sure I know, actually,” she answers. “Probably from about five hundred years back or so. Women were expected to behave certain ways. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere alone, to dress in very restrictive clothing, fighting was taboo…”

He squints and pauses. Talid’s inside a shop again. “I’m glad nobody ever thought to say as much to female turians,” he mutters.

This time, she laughs out loud. “Certain death, huh?”

“What else?” Ahead, there’s an entrance to the next ward. Talid steps through, followed by his krogan. “Human society —”

“Shhh!” she hushes him. “Drell up ahead. And is it me, or — _shit_! He’s moving!” Immediately she’s in a sprint, regardless of the skirt, and Garrus takes off after her. “ **KOLYAT**!” Her bellow startles more than one person as the drell pulls a gun. He stops, startled, but doesn’t stay that way. Only a lucky shot saves him from the charging krogan. “Oh, you’re shitting me,” Nora mumbles, using biotic energy to propel her forward. “Thane! Did you —”

  
\- - -

  
Nora’s sitting on Bailey’s desk, regardless of his glare. “I have chairs, you know,” he points out not-so-amiably.

“In a skirt. Pleather sticks to my legs,” she replies glibly. Garrus is sitting in one of the chairs, looking oddly ruffled.

“Ah… I…” the turian mumbles a moment later, hesitant. “Captain, do you know anything about someone named Fade?” She tilts her head and examines him. “I was told he works as an identity forger.” And then he presents a datapad.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt’s itching. Itching, itching, _itching_ for battle and blood and fighting. Ilium wasn’t so long ago. Zaeed’s side trip not even two days past, he still wants more. Thrumming and unbelievably strong beneath his skin, he has a hard time fighting this lust.

“Computer! Get Williams!” he barks at the wall. The computer responds, but his world’s consumed in a haze of bloodlust. Minutes later, Ashley comes in. He barely recognizes her voice.

“What is it, Grunt?”

“Spar. Now.”

  
\- - -

  
On their way back to the ship, Kasumi out of sight and Thane still in the station, Nora questions Garrus thoroughly. “So you think Sidonis could be here? On the Citadel?”

“I hope,” he bites out. Even thinking the word _Sidonis_ hides the pleasant hum of a successful mission. “He needs justice.”

“Justice or vengeance, Garrus?” Underneath the hum of the Citadel, her voice is so quiet it’s hard to hear again. “They’re two different things. I know I’m hardly one to talk.” She shudders and looks away. “If I find out the Illusive Man had a hand in Akuze, I’d need less than a second to hunt him down and rip his spine from his body. But I don’t… vengeance consumed Zaeed. To a point where he stopped valuing other lives… I don’t want that for you.”

In a better mood, he might have a soft thought about that. But knowing justice is within his reach, he can’t. “Nora, I —” he starts as they exit the airlock into the ship.

“Nora!” Joker barks, hobbling out of the cockpit. “Get down to shuttle bay, _stat_! Grunt’s lost every single one of his marbles and the bag he had them in!”

Before the words are fully formed, she’s jogging down the CIC. “What’s going on, EDI?” she asks as they pile into the elevator.

“Operative Williams began sparring with Grunt. It devolved into a full-fledged fight. XO Lawson is attempting to pull them apart, with Jacob’s help. Samara and Jack are not on board.” The AI pauses. “Shepard, this could end badly.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” the commander snaps. The doors open and she barrels into the shuttle bay, Garrus not far behind. Crates and barrels lie everywhere. Grunt’s roaring and charging at Miranda. The biotic barely holds him off. Her shield flickers and falls. She rolls away in time to escape the pummeling. Instead, he slams into a crate full of palladium. Across the bay, Jacob’s kneeling next to Ashley behind a barrier. All he can see is a crumpled mess, but he can smell blood. Nora shouts, “ _GRUNT_!”

Roaring answers her. He charges. Garrus freezes. When the krogan impacts, Nora has a shield up. Biotic energy ripples out from her barrier like a corona as Grunt pounds at the shield ineffectively. Finally, his brain unglues, and Garrus sprints to the right, towards the heavy weapons and armor. “Hold him off!”

 _“Fuck that!_ ” Nora bellows. In time with her words, he feels the pulse of the mass effect field. Rifling through the armor, he glances over. She’s braced on one leg, holding her shield. “Get down!” He pauses, but drops. He’s fought beside her for too long not to. Jacob hunkers down, Miranda pulls herself behind a crate, and the barrier —

he doesn’t have a word for it. Energy **rips** itself from Nora, strengthening the barrier, which in turns rips away and slams into Grunt. The krogan goes flying. _**THUD**_. The wall catches him and gets a dent for its trouble. 

After everything’s quiet for a minute, Nora straightens and marches over to check on Ashley. “EDI! Where’s Karin?”

“The doctor is in Mordin’s lab. She’s on her way down now,” the AI responds. Nobody says a word after that.

  
\- - -

Thumping inside her head wakes Ashley first. Her new liver means her hangover the other night wasn’t half what it used to be. But this goes beyond hangover. Her nose feels stiff, too, in the way any body part does after medigel. “Ugh,” she groans, opening her eyes.

She promptly shuts them again. Nora’s standing over her, glowering. “Mind telling me why I found a rampaging krogan in my shuttle bay and you unconscious?”

Glumly Ashley answers, “He wanted to spar. Didn’t know he meant to the death.” Tentatively, she shrugs one shoulder. It creaks. Pain shoots straight through her. “Jesus fuck,” she gasps. “Did I steal his Lucky Charms or something?” The other arm doesn’t hurt as much, but it still aches. “Why are you even asking me about this? Don’t we have cameras?”

“EDI’s cutting it out of the other footage. She should have it ready —” Nora starts.

EDI interrupts. “I have it ready now, Commander. My apologies for the delay. I thought it might be prudent to compile all of Grunt’s footage from the last forty-eight hours as well.”

Nora blinks. “Oh, yes. That’s a good idea.” Then she turns her gaze from the ceiling back to Ashley and smacks her on the forehead.

“Hey!”

“Garrus needs a favor, and I was going to take you. Now I’m stuck with Zaeed…” she grumbles. “I guess I could take Jacob. Maybe.” With that, she stalks off, grumbling. Chakwas moves in as soon as Nora walks away, looking very disapproving.

“Mom mode, activate,” Ashley mutters to herself.

  
\- - -

  
Samara returns to the ship to find it in a flurry of activity, even inside. Engineers hang from the belly outside, shouting back and forth, so she expected this noise. But inside? “Miss Chambers,” she says to the young yeoman, voice soft, “Might you tell me what has happened?”

Red creeps onto the girl’s cheeks as she stares up at Samara. “I… it’s Grunt, ma’am. He was sparring with Operative Williams and went wild. The operative… Ashley… is in med-bay. Grunt still hasn’t woken up.”

Frowning is something Samara tries not to do. But she does. “I see. Is the commander about?”

“Yes ma’am! She’s sitting in Grunt’s room and watching him.” Unexpectedly, the red in the girl’s cheeks turns darker. “She’s… she’s the one who stopped him. I’ve never seen someone who’s not an asari stop a charging krogan, ma’am. At least not with biotics.”

Something about her demeanor makes Samara prick her ears up. As soon as Mordin knew the results of the turian’s tests, he told her. Now she knows to keep an eye on the Cerberus crew. “The commander is not an asari, but she makes the best of what she has,” she tells Kelly, voice still soft. “I believe she always has.” And does she imagine it? Or is there a disappointed flicker in the girl’s eyes?

With that, she departs for the room Grunt stays in. His honorary bunk in crew quarters always goes empty. He likes it here. Usually, she can find him absorbed in his guns, or in datapads. This time she enters the room to the sight of him sprawled on his makeshift bed: crates, blankets, and pillows arranged just so. Shepard sits nearby, one knee pulled up to her chest as she perches on a crate. Perhaps more peculiar than the unconscious krogan, the commander’s not armored. Instead, she wears heels, a dark skirt, and a shirt that gleams midnight blue in the light. “I did not realize you had time for leisure shopping,” she says, rather than commenting on Grunt.

“Samara. It’s good to see you,” Nora responds, her face turning bright instead of worried. “And I don’t. I’m pretty sure it’s Kasumi, but clothes keep showing up in my room. Completely unbidden. I stopped for some things the last time I was on the Citadel, but…” Her eyes dart around the room. Her voice goes low before she continues, “All the clothes they gave me when I was resurrected were Cerberus uniforms, or had Cerberus logos. I wanted something… yeah.”

 _Understandable enough._ “May I ask what happened? Miss Chambers said —”

Shepard huffs. “ _Miss Chambers_ would never survive on an Alliance ship,” she snaps. “I came back from saving baby drell to find out Ashley was bloody in the shuttle bay, you and Jack were gone, and neither Miranda or Jacob could do more than hold Grunt off. I managed to knock him out.”

EDI comes in over the speakers to add, “The commander timed her attack well. Turians are trained to kill krogan, not to incapacitate them.”

“Unnecessary, EDI!” But Shepard pauses. “…she’s probably right, though. Garrus would have shot Grunt without a second thought.” She brings one hand up and rubs at her forehead. “Ugh.”

“Perhaps we should meditate while we wait for Grunt to wake?” Samara offers. There’s worrying pulses in Nora’s ever-increasing aura.

“…yeah, let’s.” She crosses her legs and frowns. “Oh. I asked Jack to meditate with us when we… try anything new. That way, if the drugs make my biotics…” Nora pauses for a second. Then her hands come up and she makes tiny explosion sounds, using her hands as the sunbursts. “Yeah. Y’know. That way it won’t just be you.”

Samara warms up just a little at that. “Good. She feels much turmoil. Even if you never lose control, more control will not hurt her.”

  
\- - -

  
Absorbed in directing the engineers, making sure every fuel cell goes where it belongs, Tali doesn’t even know something’s happened until EDI interrupts her. “Tali’zorah, Commander Shepard would like you to prepare for a mission.”

“What? Why? What happened?” Tali asks, looking up at the ceiling.

And she knows she’s not hallucinating when the AI replies with snark. “To cause this mission, or in general, Tali’zorah?”

“Why do I need to get ready for a fight?” she snaps. “I knew you were a bad idea.” Before EDI can answer, the door to engineering slides open and admits Nora.

“EDI pass on the message?” she asks, voice tight. She’s not in her armor. “We’re leaving shortly. I need to get this over with so Jack, Samara, and I can take turns watching Grunt.”

“What’s going on? Why does Grunt need watched?” Tali asks, signaling one of the engineers to let them know she’s leaving. The… honestly, she’s adopted Joker’s name for them. One of the Ds takes over. “Why do I need _armor_?”

“In order? Everything is going on, apparently, Grunt lost his shit and ran over Ashley, and we’re going to help Garrus do a favor.” She grumbles for a minute while they wait for and board the elevator. “I was going to take Ash, but y’know. Krogan smash.” Something about ‘krogan smash’ sends Nora into a little fit of giggles.

“What’s wrong with Garrus?” And then she remembers. She slaps her faceplate and sighs. “Of course! He thinks that traitor is on the Citadel, right? I read his datapad. Lentil Sidonis?” Nora pivots, extremely slowly, and stares at her.

“I… that’s a joke, right?” she asks.

Tali frowns and crosses her arms. “No? What’s funny about reading it?”

“ _Lentil_ ,” Nora mumbles. The elevator opens onto the shuttle bay, still in shambles. When they close, Nora’s still mumbling about Lentil.

  
\- - -

  
Of all the things Nora hates, being annoyed is nearly number one. It means when they run into the volus waiting in the warehouse, she nearly… does something very un-Nora-like. As it is, she settles for making the krogan back off. Harkin’s hideout is no better. Giant groups of Blue Suns wait for them, groups large enough to make her regret not bringing Zaeed. But she does her best impression of a vanguard, sprinting into the groups and knocking them over with violent shockwaves. It’s morbid bowling.

For the first time, she can tell there’s a difference in her biotics. Always, _always_ , she’s pushed herself to the limits of her power. It’s what she does. Before, she hadn’t paid attention. But this time she does. This time, she reaches down for power and comes up with double handfuls. Thumping heralds a large mech, armed with rockets. Garrus weakens the cockpit, Tali overloads the systems, and she cracks the armor wide open.

“Close, but not close en- _oof_!” Harkin blurts out a minute later. Garrus drops his gun and drags Harkin over to the terminal, slamming him against the wall like a child might toss a doll.

“So… Fade,” the turian purrs. “Couldn’t make yourself disappear, huh?”

 _Stop that,_ Nora tells herself when the purr reaches all the way down inside her. _That’s Garrus, and he’s very adamant about his turians only policy._

“C’mon, Garrus —” Harkin starts.

She interrupts him. “Garrus isn’t here right now, Harkin. Archangel came to visit.” She pauses, for dramatic effect. “You’d better pray he’s in a good mood.”

Tali adds a cheery cherry on top by saying, “Or don’t. I think he might like letting C-Sec rip you apart.”

Garrus doesn’t smile. “I’m looking for someone.” He steps away, moves to speak, and doesn’t. Instead, he breathes out and looks through the window.

“Well, then. I suppose I have something you want,” Harkin sneers.

Muffled but distinct, Tali’s “Oh, _Keelah_ ,” coincides perfectly with Garrus driving his knee into Harkin’s chest.

He snarls, “We’re not here to ask favors, Harkin. You helped a… friend… of mine disappear. I need to find him.” He takes a breath and goes on, “Turian. Sidonis. Came from —”

Harkin interrupts, back on his feet and pale. “I know who he is, and you’re not gettin’ squat!”

Stepping forward, Nora _feels_ the rage radiating from Garrus. “Harkin, this doesn’t have to be hard. I wasn’t kidding.”

“Screw you, Shepard!” the former officer barks. “Everyone from here to the Terminus knows you’re the biggest Girl Scout in the galaxy. Like you’ll let your pet turian hurt me? I don’t give out client information. Bad for business.” Ice drips down her spine. Garrus knees him again, and Harkin drops. She doesn’t say a word.

Setting his foot on the man’s neck, Garrus growls, “You know what’s really bad for business? A broken neck!”

And it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t, it **really** fucking shouldn’t, but his growl and his demeanor touch a part of her that stays hidden. Y _ou’re a mess!_ she scolds herself. _It doesn’t matter if you’re the biggest sub in the galaxy, this is not the time!_ Harkin reacts… well, more appropriately.

“Jesus! Call him off, Shepard!” She watches him, mouth drawn, and says nothing. “Fine! Fine! I’ll fucking do it!”

Minutes later, he’s arranged a meeting. Garrus watches him, finger on the trigger of his gun. “Don’t,” she murmurs. He looks at her. Normally, his eyes are cool and warm at the same time. They’re glacial right now. “He can’t hide from C-Sec now.”

His reaction is to step forward, lightning-fast, and headbutt the man. “I didn’t shoot him,” he tells her. She rolls her eyes and lifts a hand. Biotic energy ripples over Harkin where he kneels on the floor.

“The hell?” the man mutters, struggling. Once, she would have needed to compensate for it, put more power in one place and less in another. Now she just increases the flow and drags him onward.

  
\- - -

  
“At least we only owe Bailey two favors now, not three,” Nora mumbles after they’ve sat in the skycar for several minutes, silent. He grunts, too focused to do much else. “Garrus?” she asks, her voice quieter. He grunts again. “Are you sure about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” For the rest of the ride, nobody speaks. Tali sits in the back, eyes flicking between them. As they land and disembark, everything takes on the crystal-coolness of an important moment. Sounds seem muted. His Mantis comes out, the metal warming to his hand as he turns to Nora. “I need to set up. You’ll know him when you see him. Keep him talking and don’t get in my way. I’ll let you know when I have him.”

She nods, but says again, “Garrus — is it —”

He doesn’t let her finish. “Why should _he_ go on living when ten good men lie in unmarked graves?” Her face goes white, but he turns away. “Tali. Can you scramble the security feeds? Make sure nobody can see me?”

“I will, but only for you, Garrus,” the quarian replies. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I _hope_ you’re not enough of a fool to let revenge change you.” Her gaze flits between him and Nora. Though unspoken, he can hear her thought: _She’s trying to help, you idiot, stop snapping._ But she walks away, opening her omnitool without a word.

Eleven minutes and forty-four seconds later, he whispers into the comm, “That’s him. Barefaced, black and red, on the bench.” Nora says something, but it’s more like a breath than words, and entirely unintelligible. Then she waves Sidonis over.

He comes, steps slow and hesitant. Through the comm, he can hear ambient sound, so that means he hears the terse, “Let’s get this over with.” Garrus takes a breath, ready to tell Shepard to move aside. Then Sidonis steps forward, closer to Nora, and peers into her face. “Wait.”

Nora comes over comms now, sardonic as can be, “What? You want to take me for a date after I safeguard your identity?”

“Move out of my shot,” he whispers. _Hopefully he can’t hear._

“No. You — you’re that Alliance commander. Shipper? Sheeper?” Sidonis pauses. “An… old colleague… spoke about you a lot. Really admired you. Thought you were dead?”

For a heartbeat, he sees Nora waver. Executing people point-blank has never been one of her specialties. “I… guess you could say I was,” she admits. “That doesn’t matter. It’s not what I’m here for.”

She steps aside.

He takes the shot.

His gunshot echoes. The sound reaches Sidonis before the bullet.

He dies, eyes trained on Garrus’s scope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how well it translates, but I'm hoping it does: one of the symptoms of severe depression is fatigue. I'm trying to make that show, but it may be making it look like Nora's just a slug-a-bed. Being over-tired does and will make depression worse, though, and a good night's sleep does help.
> 
> Also, is this a good time to say I'm not using the much-beloved canon line about reach and flexibility??
> 
> I couldn't remember if there were any canon details about the Archangel team, and honestly, I've been working enough lately that I was too tired to check.
> 
> Also also. I may or may not have a one-shot hidden away regarding Joker/Nora. Let me know if you're interested in seeing that, but it's... terribly, horribly smutty, I'm afraid. (And I do mean terrible. I'm awful at smut, having written it a grand total of twice.)


	14. In Dreams of Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's very good at being wrong, honestly. But usually it doesn't get people choked.
> 
> Usually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers Grunt and Mordin's loyalty missions. Lots of liberties taken.

Miranda’s taking her turn watching Grunt when he stirs. They’ve kept him unconscious since he attacked Ashley, just in case. But they’re nearing Tuchanka now. She opens a link to Nora and asks, “Commander. Grunt will wake soon. Should I apply more sedatives?”

Nora’s reply is absent. “No. I’ll send Jack down to help you keep him contained if necessary. We’ll be landing shortly.” The comm cuts out before Miranda can protest.

Instead, she sighs. “Jack? She couldn’t have sent Samara?” she asks the still unconscious krogan.

  
\- - -

  
“Jack, I need you to step over to Grunt’s hidey-hole. Take Karin, if you will. Grunt’s waking up. We’ll be at Tuchanka soon,” Nora orders, mind still on her diagrams. “Miranda’s waiting.”

“You expect _me_ to deal with the goddamn —” Jack starts, enraged voice echoing in Nora’s cabin. Nora cuts her off.

“I _expect_ you to be a little bit professional! If I can deal with her, you can. Find a straw, suck it up, and get over there stat. I don’t need hull breaches!” Shepard snaps and closes the comm. The last day or so she’s done it too often, she knows. She’ll apologize later.

For now, she’s planning. The empty fishtank has a new purpose. Darkened, just like her model display, it makes a wonderful blackboard. “Can’t believe all the time I’ve wasted,” she mumbles, chewing on the end of her stylus. “Okay. If we make out of the Omega-4, we’ll need… a lot of everything. The Reapers will know I’ve kicked Harbinger’s ass. If I start now, it might be doable.” The start of lists and graphs sit on her new blackboards.

_Mordin — ex-STG, still holding ties? highly valued agent. Collectors partial proof of Reapers, more in Collector base? connections to Dalatrass??_

_Liara — less Thessian value. good info broker. Prothean expert. may be able to search out Prothean sites for clues, weapons, etc. more beacons?? plausible._ An arrow, drawn from Liara’s name, connects it to a scrawled _Benezia’s old connections???_ off to the right.

 _Samara — justicars v. important to Thessia. S logical, present proof to her. ‘justice' includes giant space Cthulus argument???? if convinced can speak to Thessian officials, find asari support. biotics known to Reapers, but still useful. asari knowledgeable about Protheans, possible hidden evidence of Reapers during last ‘cycle’?_ The last phrase is circled, an line connecting it to Liara’s name.

_Garrus — unsure of Hierarchy position, father former C-Sec executor. USEFUL. no convincing necessary, provide G w/ evidence for Hierarchy. HIERACHY’S ARMY NECESSARY for all plans. play on turian love of battle?_

_Tali — father flotilla Admiral!!! Collector tech convincing? — > ask for Sovereign tech from Reonn?? FLOTILLA SUPPORT NECESSARY_

Biting her stylus again, she goes back to work. Lists upon lists, full of every name she can remember, cover every centimeter of space when she finishes. _Salarian captain dude??_ is connected to Mordin. She’s moved Tali and Garrus next to each other, enclosing them in overlapping circles. In the overlap, _quarian/turian designed weapon effective against Reapers??_ sits. _Zaeed — > lead Blue Suns? —> merc. army?_ is another note. _ARIA_ sits in all caps between Liara, Samara, and Mordin’s lists, surrounded by at least a dozen question marks.

Staring down the lists, she sighs and rubs her forehead. “Why did I get put in charge of saving the galaxy?” she mutters. “I can be in charge of about five things without them blowing up.”

Sardonic and unexpected, EDI’s voice comes from the ceiling. “Perhaps because the Reapers _need_ to be blown up, Commander?”

Nora jumps a solid meter in the air. “JOKER!” she bellows at the ceiling. “I DON’T APPRECIATE YOU SHOVING YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR INTO EDI’S BLUE BALL!”

  
\- - -

  
Joker’s humming, running through possible approach vectors for Tuchanka, when someone clearing their throat startles him. “Jesus!” he snaps, spinning his chair around. “Who the — oh. Kelly.” The yeoman’s standing there, head tilted to one side. “If you’re looking for the commander, she’s in her cabin. EDI just relayed an angry message for her.”

He spins his chair around, but Chambers saunters up and _gracefully_ plops into the co-pilot’s seat. He eyes her, but goes back to his vectors. “I was just coming up to check on you, Helmsman Moreau,” she says brightly. “I know you’ve had a lot of turmoil in the last couple years. Going back to Alchera…” she shakes her head slowly and mournfully. “It couldn’t have been any easier on you than it was on Shepard.”

Now he’s confused. “Alchera? That was…” he counts, but it’s harder to keep track of days on ship. “It’s been well over a week.”

“I’ve been so busy, you see!” Kelly confides, leaning forward. Clearly, she’s off-duty, judging by her tank top. Her _low-cut_ tank top.

 _Apparently I have a reputation,_ Joker grouses to himself. _Flash some titty, Moreau’ll give it up!_

But she’s still talking. “…and you know, there’s just so much mental turmoil in the crew, I feel like I should help! Even if you ignore Jack, Samara killed her own daughter, and Zaeed… oh, he’s very good at hiding it, but I can sense his hurt.” Joker slides his eyes toward her, narrowed into cat-like slits as she goes on. And on. And on.

  
\- - -

  
Everything’s dark, and fuzzy, for a little while. Grunt comes to quickly. He always will. It’s part of being krogan. He doesn’t expect to come to and find the commander’s biotics wrapped around him. It’s definitely the commander’s, too — krogan sensitivity means he can tell biotics apart. “Shepard?” he grumbles, sitting up. She lets him. “What’s going on?”

“A wonderful question,” she bites out. He eyes her. She’s fully armored. No guns — but she doesn’t need them. “I came back from the Citadel to find Ashley nearly dead, with you doing your level best to pummel Miranda and Jacob. Mind telling me what that’s about?”

His jaw drops. Just a bit. “I… I don’t remember,” he rumbles after a moment. There’s a dark, bloody haze over part of his memory. Thinking about it too hard brings the _itch_ back. He remembers that, at least.

“Well. Either you’re fucked, like every other tank-bred krogan, or this is normal,” Shepard summarizes, standing to her feet. “Armor. We’re on Tuchanka and going down shortly.” She stops and looks at him, eyes dark. “If you’re going to endanger my crew, and my friends, I’m going to leave you on the surface. I don’t dislike you, Grunt. But —”

“It’s a battlemaster’s duty to safeguard their krantt,” he interrupts. “I know.” What he doesn’t say runs across his mind. _I’m your krantt, too, aren’t I?_

“Good.” She stands over him for a moment, stone-faced. Then the expression softens. “If there’s anything, **anything** , we can do at all to help you with whatever this is, Grunt, I’ll do it. But I need my crew alive if we’re going to do anything to save the universe. And if you come back to the Normandy, I’ll proudly let the world know I’m your battlemaster. Okay?”

“Okay.”

  
\- - -

  
Cailin leans against the shuttle’s side, watching squadmates file in. Grunt goes first. Zaeed after that, then Tali, Ashley, Jack, and Jacob, with Garrus bringing up the rear. Shepard climbs into the cockpit with Cailin and opens her omnitool. “Here. Coordinates from Doctor T’soni. She says this is the base for Clan Urdnot.” Something, suspiciously like a prayerful look, flickers over Shepard’s features.

“Understood, commander,” Cailin replies. Once they’re off, she glances sideways at the commander. And she _has_ to know. “May I ask you something?”

“You just did, but shoot,” Shepard answers, focused on something on her omnitool.

“I was watching from the cockpit when you helped Mr. Vakarian find that other turian. Hardsuit cameras and all. Mr. Moreau likes to keep an eye on them, and he was abed, so I did it for him. ” Now they’re approaching atmo, and she has to focus. She speaks anyway. “Is it alright if I’m asking why you let him shoot the poor bastard?”

Shepard’s armor creaks, and she can hear the commander’s hair brush her armor as her head turns. “I didn’t realize you had an accent,” is her first remark. With a start, Cailin realizes she’s let her soft burr slip into her speech while she focused on flying. “But… I don’t know. It was dangerous, yes. But it’s also something I can hardly gainsay. If we’d let him live, who else could he have hurt?” She shrugs and turns her head back forward. “I’d rather not have had to find out.”

“Alright. It was just a wee bit of curiosity,” Cailin responds. “I’ve never been in a leadership position, unless you’re counting the time I visited Nastaran’s family.” She laughs at the memory. “Had to lead horses to water, you see.”

Nora snorts. “Hopefully they went to water and didn’t linger, so you got to prove that saying wrong. And as long as it’s just curiosity, and not a junior officer gainsaying my decisions, I’m always open for questions,” she says. Then a grin enters her voice. “Besides, I like your hair too much to brush you off.”

Cailin’s the one snorting now. “Oh, you do? See how much you like it when it’s on your head, and being nothing but a giant fuss!” She glances down at the console first before glancing at the commander. “We’re approaching the coordinates shortly, ma’am. It looks to be underground.”

“Damn it,” her superior’s voice echoes through the comms. “Knew I should have come down. Stay on the Normandy, Joker, it’s just Tuchanka! Now _Cailin_ gets to be the one flying into underground cities.”

“Joker?” the commander says, voice perfectly level.

“Commander?”

“Shush.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am!” the man says, laughter in his voice. Cailin can’t help grinning as she sets them down.

  
\- - -

  
Wrex lets the krogan below him drone on, and on, and _on_. About the fourth time the idiot repeats the same argument, he decides to sort out all the swearing he’s learned over the years to find the ones that apply to this specific situation. In alphabetical order, of course. By the time he gets to Tali’zorah’s angry exclamations of _Keelah_! for everything, he notices a commotion further down in the camp. Someone comes up the ramp to his makeshift throne and speaks to his guards. He doesn’t pay much attention until he hears a familiar voice — one he hadn’t expected to hear again. “We can wait, and we will. But I want to at least greet him! I haven’t seen him since 2183!” The last word echoes. He pushes himself to his feet.

He’s not wrong. Shepard, hair tied back tight in that odd tail of hers, faces down his guards. It’s the same Shepard, and yet not. She still stands, fists firmly on her hips, and glares up at the krogan with fire in her eyes. But she looks older. More worn. _Humans age quickly, but…_ He shrugs and calls out, “ _Shepard!”_

She glares at the guard, mumbles something, and moves up the ramp. Her fierce grin warms him, surprisingly. So do the people trickling up the ramp after her. First comes Tali’zorah, new shotgun on her back. Then comes Garrus. The turian’s scarred, but he walks with more confidence than he ever used to. Two more humans follow Garrus, one wonderfully scarred, the other with terrifyingly shiny armor. A bald woman in soot black armor comes next. His nose twitches when she comes closer. Biotics in humans usually aren’t this strong, but hers reek of power. A krogan comes next, but the person bringing up the rear makes his jaw drop.

 _Williams_. He was with Shepard on Virmire, when she took a deep, sad breath and said, “Kirrahe’s depending on us. I’m sorry, Ash.”

Shepard’s death, he wasn’t present for. Such things get blown out of proportion, and given the recent rumors, he thought it was a lie. But Williams? He saw that bomb. Nobody, not even a krogan, could have survived it. That had been the point. But — she’ll tell him. Later, perhaps, not when he’s on his throne. It doesn’t feel right to stay on his throne, though, so he leaves it and steps toward the small woman. “Shepard,” he rumbles, clasping her arm. “My friend. You look well for someone dead. Should have known the void couldn’t hold you.” He casts an eye towards Williams. “Looks like it spat someone else out, too.”

“Human women are reputed to be stubborn, don’t you know?” Shepard says, her voice firm and still happy. “It looks like you’ve done well for yourself. I couldn’t believe it when Liara told me you led Clan Urdnot. But it’s good.”

“Not just for me, Shepard, for all krogan.” He turns and gestures at the camp. “Urdnot is only the start. When I’m done, we’ll be one people again.”

Uvenk butts in, as he always does. “You abandon _many_ traditions!”

He headbutts the upstart and growls, “Speak when spoken to, Uvenk. I’ll lead your clan to glory whether it likes it or not.” Then he returns to his throne, jaw tight. Shepard lingers at the edge of the platform, an eye on Uvenk.

“Wrex, might I speak to… your acquaintance?” she asks, picking her words delicately. He wrinkles his brow, but nods. She turns to Uvenk and speaks as her ground team spreads out across the platform. “A human man once said ‘blindly following ancient traditions does not mean the dead are alive, it means the living are dead’. Traditions have their places, but so too do new things. Wrex will see this done, with or without you, whoever you are. When the histories are written, where will you be in them?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she steps away and to the foot of his throne.

Uvenk jumps to his feet, but her back’s turned on him. From his seat, Wrex can see every person Shepard brought with her. Every one of them, down to the strange krogan, raises a gun and trains their gaze on Uvenk. The troublemaker departs quietly. “Heh,” Wrex snorts. “Don’t know what you had in mind bringing everyone down here, Shepard, but it’s a good show of force.”

“Well, it’s exactly what I had in mind,” Shepard admits. “I had a reason for bringing who I brought. And it’s not everyone. The rest are on the Normandy. Joker says hi.”

“Ah, the Normandy. How is she?” Wrex asks. He doesn’t expect the cringe.

“Our Normandy was destroyed by the Collectors in a surprise attack,” Shepard replies, voice soft and odd. “I… ended up getting spaced. Ashley and I are both here because of the same people. They gave us a new Normandy, too.”

“You look good for dead,” Wrex repeats. “But you have a new ship, and a new crew. I don’t know some of these ones.” He eyes them and then turns his eyes back to Shepard.

“I thought you might like to see Tali again. Garrus has this idea he’ll be irresistible to krogan women now —” in the background, Garrus’s mandibles flare and he shakes his head violently, mouthing _no_ at Wrex repeatedly. Shepard continues on. “Zaeed I thought you might have known, Jack’s great at starting and ending fights, and Jacob’s my token muscle guy.” She turns around and gives the shining armor man a smile before returning to her words. “But Grunt did come for an extra special reason.” She beckons the single krogan over and he comes.

  
\- - -

  
“I maintain we should take him to Omega, buy him a few dances, and call it even,” Garrus insists. Behind her, Tali can hear the turian and the commander sorting through the weapons in the shuttle. “We don’t know what this rite will do to Grunt.”

“And we know how the dances are going to?” Shepard replies with a snort. “Garrus, you and I both know our chances of anything going well against the Collectors go up with a krogan at the forefront. We can’t take Wrex. He’s too important. So the rite of passage it is.”

Tali speaks up from her perch in the cabin, frantically rummaging through the spare parts under the consoles. “I trust Grunt. He’s the _only_ person on the ship who can’t have any ulterior motives.”

Shepard’s head pops up from her lapful of thermal clips. “Are you saying krogan are too stupid to have ulterior motives?!?” she demands. “Tali! I thought better of you!”

It takes a second for that to sink in. When it does, Tali drops the eezo displacer in her hand. “Shepard! I would _never_ say that!” she scolds, jumping to her feet and spinning about. Shepard has the good grace to look sheepish, at least. “What I meant is Grunt’s practically a baby. He just came out of his tank a little while ago. He hasn’t had a chance to decide on any ulterior motives!”

Strangely, Shepard narrows her eyes. “Grunt’s a baby. Baby krogan…” She sets the clips aside and stands up, opening her omnitool. A moment later, the screen inside the shuttle blazes to life. Mordin appears on the screen, looking slightly confused.

“Ah! Shepard. Just who I wanted to speak with. Need to —” he starts.

She runs roughshod over him. “Mordin. I know the STG monitors the genophage. Did you ever work on it?” she demands. And for the first time ever, Tali sees a salarian’s face fall.

“Ah. Yes. Part of what I wished to speak about. Permission to come to surface, commander?” Mordin says, words surprisingly hesitant. “Not a discussion to be had over comms. Sensitive information, you see. Very sensitive information.”

One eyebrow goes up. “You want to come to _Tuchanka_ , Mordin?” Shepard asks, voice incredulous. “I know you’re no fainting daisy, but…”

Garrus stands and dusts off his knees before stepping into view of the camera. “She’s right. It is dangerous here. I’ve already had three different krogan threaten to pull off my plating and cram it down my throat.” He snorts. “Original. Grunt threatened me with that his first day out of the tank.”

“They **what**?” Nora bellows, turning on Garrus. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Tali does her best to hide her giggle as she sneaks into frame. Garrus stares down Nora, arms crossed, and Nora stares back. Tali waves to Mordin, points at them, and uses her fingers as tiny puppets, frantically 'kissing'. The scientist watches her, blinks, and nods, eyes bright. Her cackle’s impossible to hide. “What are you laughing at, Tali?” Nora asks, not looking away from Garrus.

“I… uh… well. I feel rather stupid, but I just remembered the shuttle doesn’t _need_ a combustion manifold. So we won’t have one.” She shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Shepard, regardless of danger, will be coming down. Have fought more than one angry krogan,” Mordin states firmly. Shepard sighs and turns back to the screen.

“Very well, Mordin. But bring your heavier armor, please, and put my mind to rest. If I can make Jack and Miranda wear armor, I can make you do it.” She grumbles something under her breath and cuts the connection.

“Why don’t you ask me to wear armor?” Tali asks as they exit the shuttle, Garrus and Nora’s arms full of guns. “Or Thane?”

“Thane needs to able to move. And quarians — well. Your exosuits are better engineered than most of the armor in markets today.” Nora rolls her shoulders. “Think Wrex’ll spar with me before we go?”

“Better wait till after,” Garrus rumbles. He takes a step closer and nudges Nora’s shoulder with his elbow. She goes off-balance, just a bit, and scowls up at him as she regains her stride. “After all, we’re going into a mysterious rite.”

  
\- - -

  
After much deliberation, she takes Zaeed and Garrus with her for Grunt’s rite of passage. Ashley, Tali, Jacob, and Jack can all fend well enough for themselves in the krogan camp. _Garrus is good, but nobody’s pulling plating off my turian._

Grunt’s excited, excited enough that his bouncing shakes the truck they’re in the entire way there. Wrex, sitting across the truck on a small seat, laughs at it. His laughter shakes the truck even more. Garrus chuckles. “Laugh it up, tall boy,” Nora mutters at him. Just then, they hit a bump and she flies into the air, landing with a solid _thump_. Another chuckle. He’s tall enough to brace one hand on the roof and prevent such things.

“Garrus. Glad to see you’ve finally gotten some game,” Wrex addresses the turian. “Not nearly enough scars for a krogan woman yet, though. Keep going. Massani’s got it about right.”

“Goddamn right I do,” Zaeed mumbles, checking his gun for the umpteenth time. “Every scar I have’s got a meanin’, even if they’re all shitty meanings. Earned ‘em. Don’t attract the humans like I used to, but maybe krogan women’ll make me swear off ‘em.” Nora snorts.

They hit another bump. “I earned this one, don’t worry,” Garrus drawls. “Actually, it’s a story you might be interested in, Wrex. Care to hear the story of how I held off three gangs for days with nothing more than a sniper rifle and stims?”

“Do I look like a maiden asari? Start talking!” Wrex replies, baring his teeth in a krogan smile.

“It started not long after…” he glances at Nora, blue eyes softening. “…after the Normandy went down. I got sick of C-Sec. Just _sick_. So I —” His story’s cut off when they hit another bump. This one sends her head _straight_ into the roof.

“Fuck this!” she snaps, scooting sideways and tucking herself firmly against Garrus. “If you let me hit the roof, I’m considering it a breach of contract and tossing out all the nice dextro food we got on Ilium,” she informs him tartly.

He laughs and reaches across her lap, resting one hand on her far thigh. “Got it, Shepard. No more banging in the back of the truck,” he mutters. Then he winks. Instantly, she feels the heat in her face. “Anyway. So I ended up on Omega…” For the rest of the ride, she sits beside Garrus, arms crossed. Every time they hit a bump, she mumbles imprecations beneath her breath. And every time they hit a bump, his hand tightens on her leg. Her armor’s insulated enough she can’t actually feel the heat or pressure of his hand, but she swears she does.

  
\- - -

  
Before they came, everyone loaded up on everything they could possibly need. Medi-gel, ammo, all of it — but Grunt still finds himself idly kicking over Urdnot corpses as they approach the center of the Rite area. “Ready when you are, Shepard,” he rumbles after they all scope out the area.

“Likewise,” Garrus murmurs. He’s set up on top of one of the pipes, a position where he can peer out, but not be seen. Zaeed just grunts.

“Hit it, Grunt,” Nora orders, voice solemn. The effect’s ruined when she giggle-snorts a second later and starts humming under her breath. Nonetheless, he taps the keystone.

Urdnot’s leader comes over the intercom. It’s pretty words, but it’s meaningful pretty words. He focuses on them, just as much as he focuses on the holes and cavernous entrances. Varren come first. They come in great numbers, but between the four of them, it’s barely a blip on the radar. Grunt rips into them on one side of the stairs, Massani on the other. Shepard stands in the middle, hurling twisting balls of biotic energy every which way. The larger varren don’t make it to him, courtesy of the sniper behind them.

“Save some for me, Vakarian!” he roars, ripping the last one in two. “Taking all the fun out of it!”

“For you, maybe,” comes the dry drawl. “I’m having plenty of fun.”

Next come klixen. His own battle cry of, “Crawlers! Come to your death!” is almost drowned out by Nora’s shriek of, _“Is that a fucking dragon?!?”_ (His translator lets the word ‘dragon’ through without translating. He’ll have to ask later.) This time Grunt and Massani group up in the middle. Shepard hauls herself up onto the pipe beside Garrus and booby-traps the klixen’s path with singularities.

One of the later ones, near the end of the wave of creatures, lands in the same place as an earlier one. Part of the platform creaks and collapses, unable to handle the gravitational strain. Massani stumbles, but doesn’t lose his feet. “Jesus, Shepard, watch where you’re throwing those things!” he bellows up at the woman. All she does is cackle.

Nothing comes for a little while after the klixen. His armor barely bloodied, he mutters, “That’s it? That’s this great rite? What a —” Shaking interrupts him. Not just his body. The ground, the platform, the ruins — all rumble with the sound of something approaching. “Feel that?” he breathes. “I am _ready_!” Strange tentacles appear in the distance. Or at least, they look like tentacles. They approach, guns held high — they’re not. They’re feelers. Zaeed fumbles for a grenade and tosses it. Grunt can’t help relishing the shriek that follows. And then — and _then_.

Rocks fly. The ground bursts wide open. A thresher maw surfaces, mouth wide as it shrieks. “No,” he hears Nora breathe. “You fuckers? Again?”

He doesn’t pay attention. “FINALLY! An enemy worth fighting!” He charges, the ground disappearing beneath his feet as he pounds closer and closer to the maw.

“Grunt — _Grunt_!” breaks through focus a few seconds later. Nora’s keeping stride with him somehow. He glances down — of course. Biotics. Her feet bounce off the ground with far greater impact than they should. “Listen, the armor — we have to get the armor off. If we don’t, we’re fucked. If I get you onto its back, can you —?”

“Hell yeah!” he replies, the battle fever rushing back through him. She skids to a stop and kneels in the middle of the battlefield, biotic barrier forming around her in time to splash acid away. Faintly, he hears her warn him to get ready as he comes to the edge of the rite’s area. As he reaches for the wall, the hum of mass effect fields impedes his hearing. He leaps onto the wall, and as he leaps off, he leaps _into_ a biotic field. It ricochets him upward and wraps around him at the same time. Looking down, he can see Shepard guiding him. So he prepares to hang on.

When he lands, it’s on the back of the thresher maw, just below its head. His fingers gouge into the plating, even without help. He applies ‘help’ in the form of his shotgun anyway. This close, it shatters the armor and blackens the flesh beneath. From there, he can easily pull it loose and toss it away. A second plate follows. There’s a weak spot now, one wide enough for even a salarian to hit from afar. His heartbeat’s too loud to trust his comm, and the creature even louder. So he unloads his shotgun into the tender flesh, throws his head back, and roars, _“I! AM! KROGAAAAAAAN!”_

  
\- - -

  
When the thresher maw falls, its long body stretched across the rite area, Zaeed cheers. He’s seen the bastards before, but never fought one. With Grunt on its back, Shepard throwing warps and singularities like mad, his own grenades and gunfire, and Vakarian’s keen sniper eye, it was practically cake.

Grunt and Shepard come over, panting but exultant. Part of Grunt’s scales, near the back of his head, steams. “Didn’t know krogans had an exhaust port,” Zaeed points out. Shepard blinks at him and turns to look.

“Shit! That’s acid!” she yelps, bounding over to Grunt. Unlatching a compartment in her sleeve, she upends it on the krogan’s head. Water dumps out, but not enough to stop the burn. “Make yourselves useful! This stuff can —” she keeps talking, but the exhaust ports of a rickety shuttle drown her out as it lands nearby.

“Good. Company. I want more,” Grunt snarls, knocking Shepard’s hands away. As they walk, Vakarian reaches into his armor and retrieves a bottle of water. Zaeed eyes him, curious.

“What? It’s dual chiralty,” he says, pouring it down the back of Grunt’s neck. The steaming slows, but still doesn’t stop. Above, someone paces, waiting.

 _Oh, it’s that smarmy fuckin’ shit of a krogan what was back at the camp,_ Zaeed thinks. Grunt grumbles, but steps forward.

“You live, and you brought down the thresher maw. None have done so for… generations. Urdnot Wrex was the last,” he orates. And it’s proper orating, all right.

“What, like it was hard?” Zaeed mutters before Grunt speaks up.

“My krantt gave me strength beyond mere genes.” The young krogan pauses and adds, “Of which mine are _damn_ good.”

Uvenk hums and jumps down, peering into Grunt’s face. “I wonder… this will cause discussion. You are pure, you say? No alien meddling in your construction? Just the warlord Okeer?”

Nora steps forward. Though she crosses her arms, one of them still holds a gun. “He was designed to be perfect, yes, and Warlord Okeer distilled the best krogan traits into him. But I’m not sure what ‘alien’ meddling has to do with it.”

“Being _designed_ is the problem,” Uvenk grunts. “But not made by aliens. Made by a krogan, one who knows what ‘krogan’ means… And he is powerful. A tolerable loophole.” Even from a foot away, Zaeed can hear Nora gritting her teeth. “It gives us a reason to accept you. You are a mistake, but a mistake which could tip the balance of the clans.”

Shepard steps forward, hand raised. Grunt beats her to it. “You spit on my father’s name! You spit on Shepard’s name! But now you cease your ranting because I’m _strong_?” He steps back and huffs a giant breath out. “Ridiculous.”

“You will be clan. With… restrictions. No breeding, of course. And you couldn’t…” he eyes Shepard. His distaste for her practically reeks, it’s so obvious. “Serve on alien ships. But you’d be clan in name.”

“What?” Shepard snaps. “You — ugh! What is he, a thing? A trophy to be put up on a shelf, or a gun to be packed away in cotton? You want the power he could give you, you don’t want _him_! But I —” she reins in her temper. “This is… it’ll be your life, Grunt. It’s your call. I can’t say it sounds like it’ll be a good life, but it’ll be easy.”

Grunt laughs. “Easy? Heh. That’s a problem. I’m **pure** krogan. Uvenk, you’re the pretender! No krogan would offer such a thing!” With that, he charges. In sync with his charge, the familiar report of a sniper rifle echoes. A krogan goes down, shot straight through one eye.

“Good on you, Vakarian!” Zaeed barks, taking cover. Over the comm, he can hear the turian’s dry laugh.

“What, like I’m going to stick around and not take cover around a bunch of hostile krogan? I didn’t get this far by being an idiot,” he replies. Another report. Another krogan falls. Shepard’s squarely in the middle of the platform, where they stood and bargained. Every time a krogan charges, she meets him with a powerful shield. He eyes her in a lull and compares the way her shield reacts to these krogan to the way it’d reacted to Grunt in the security footage. None of them make it shudder like Grunt did.

“All these krogan, and not a goddamn one’s worth half the one we’ve got,” he mumbles. He doesn’t expect anyone to hear.

“Damn straight they’re not!” Grunt roars over the intercom. All the krogan have fallen, save Uvenk.

 _Goddamn smarmy shit doesn’t have the balls to face the music_. Uvenk hides and dodges around corners. Garrus clips him once — twice — but doesn’t get any shots in center mass. Grunt chases him, and Zaeed comes in the opposite way.

“Grunt! Catch!” Shepard shouts. Zaeed looks back to see her concentrating, eyes closed. When he turns his head, Uvenk’s in the air, struggling in vain. Then he drops like a ton of bricks.

  
\- - -

  
Mordin exits the shuttle to cheering. “Well. Odd. Never thought would receive such a warm welcome,” he remarks. Cailin, crawling out of the cockpit, laughs.

“I don’t think it’s for you, doc. I caught a wee bit of something on the airwaves when we came down. Grunt and the commander took out a thresher maw while we were dawdling aboard the Normandy. Sounds like a good reason for a krogan party to me! Speaking of parties…” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a canister he recognizes. “Meant to give it to you before we left, but it slipped my mind. Shepard picked it up for you at the merchant.”

He peeks at the little letters on the canister. “Ah, yes! Incendiary pistol round modification. Will work very nicely coupled with cryo-shock. Must thank Shepard.”

Cailin gestures down the ramp. “Looks like you won’t have to wait. I can hear her down there now.” Indeed, if he listens very closely, he can make out the full sound of Shepard’s laughter over rattling and shouting. “I think she’s friends with the krogan leader. Good for you, huh? They’re not fond of salarians.”

“Aware of that,” he snaps, hurrying down into the camp. Cailin stays behind, but he can feel her staring.

No guards wait. A dark shadow moves and he snaps to attention, ready to freeze them. “Whoa, dude. I’ve been crunchy once in my life, let’s not make it twice,” Ashley says, stepping into the light. “C’mon. I heard the shuttle landing. Tali told me you were coming down. Unescorted salarian in a krogan camp? Baaaad idea.”

They emerge into a city of ruins. Shepard’s voice, mingled with Grunt’s, comes from the center of a circle of krogan. One of them towers over the others. Even from here, he can see Garrus’s head poking up. “Ashley. Aware of… possible liaison… between Commander and —”

She finishes the statement for him. “Garrus, yeah. Pretty sure it’s still one-sided. Nor’d tell me if she got some. But it might not stay that way. We’ll see.” Then she raises her voice. “Hey, Shepard! Got a present for you, straight from the Normandy!”

A minute later, Shepard breaks from the circle and jogs over. “Mordin. Glad to see you didn’t get plates shoved down your throat or anything on the way down. The krogan’re going to have a giant dinner.” She pulls a face. “Turns out thresher maw meat’s a delicacy. Can’t say I’ll try it.”

“Ah, Shepard,” he starts, warning in his voice.

Before he can say anything more, a great red hand claps onto Nora’s shoulder. “Shepard,” the krogan rumbles. Mordin looks up at him and blinks. “Didn’t realize you’d taken to dragging pyjaks around.”

“Be reasonably nice, Wrex,” Nora sighs. “Mordin, this is Urdnot Wrex, leader of Clan Urdnot. Wrex, this is Mordin Solus, former STG agent. He’s currently on board the Normandy helping us out.”

Wrex snorts and withdraws his hand to cross his arms. “With what? Poisoning the crew?”

Shepard’s eyes roll back in her head. “ **No** , Wrex. He engineered a counter to the Collector swarms. It kept us safe on Horizon. He’s also researching armor and weapon upgrades for each of the crew members… and studying me.” The last sentence she drops in a quiet voice, as if she doesn’t want him to hear.

“Studying you?” The krogan looks down at Shepard. Both remain still for a moment. “Wondered if the extra biotics came with the package,” he finally says. “They’re not like the hairless one you brought, but you’re stronger than you used to be.”

“Yes, very important to crew of Normandy. Should not be harmed,” Mordin babbles. “Shepard. Came here for reason. Old STG contacts —”

“I’ll be with you in a moment, Mordin, okay?” Nora interrupts. Her eyes promise it’s the truth as she turns away. “Wrex. What was the favor you wanted to ask me?”

After a contemplative rumble and a hard stare, the krogan shrugs and speaks. “Got a missing scout. Wouldn’t be asking, but he went missing in Weyrloc territory. Gatatog’s always been upstarts, but Weyrloc… just trouble.” He shakes his head. “Most of the krogan sent to kill me are Weyrloc.”

“And you want me to see if your missing scout’s just missing out of stupidity, or if he got caught?” Nora asks. Wrex nods. “Got it. I’ll take Tali, Ash, and Garrus.”

Shifting his weight uneasily, Wrex says, “Well… there’s nothing important going on in camp right now. For the next day or so, everyone that’s able will be hauling in meat from the Rite area. So if you feel like reliving the old days…” He shrugs and tries to look nonchalant. Mordin eyes him. The krogan’s clearly itching for a fight.

“Of course, Wrex!” Nora answers with a wide grin. “Figure out what you want to take. It’ll be me, you, Tali, and Garrus. Just like when the galaxy was on the brink of destruction all over again.” Wrex nods and stomps off. Mordin watches him go. “Now, what was so important you had to come to Tuchanka?” she asks, turning to him.

He backs away, motioning her into a little corner. And finally, for the first time in years, he tells someone outside the STG what he’s done. How he saw what the krogan were doing, how they were _thriving_ , and how he took that hope away. Before he spoke, he already knew how she’d react. That doesn’t mean it makes the pang of pain any easier when she sighs and drops her eyes, disappointment crawling across her face. “I… I see. I understand why you, and the entire salarian community, did what you did. That doesn’t mean it makes it right.” Nora catches his gaze, stopping it from flitting away. “I can’t say I’m particularly thrilled to hear it, but thank you for telling me.”

“More to it, Shepard. Former assistant, Maelon. Believe he’s on Tuchanka. STG contacts tracked him here. Have coordinates —” he opens his omnitool. Her laughter halts him.

“Of course there’s more,” she sighs. “I’ll help you after I help Wrex.”

“About that. May be near same area, if not officially related,” he explains guiltily. “Mercenaries which took Maelon were Blood Pack. Majority of Blood Pack come from clan Weyrloc.”

 _Thwack_! announces Shepard slapping her palm over her face. “Of course. Fuck you, Murphy.”

  
\- - -

  
Garrus lets his eyes slide from member to member of the truck. Mordin’s on his left. Nora’s on his right, tucked against him to keep from hitting the roof (again). Wrex and Tali sit across from him. Tali’s gamely rambling about shotguns. Wrex is participating, but only barely. Most of his time and effort’s spent glaring at Mordin. Mordin’s busy with… something… on his omnitool. What, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t particularly want to.

“Ouch!” Nora grumbles as they go over another bump. He glances down, smiles, and squeezes her leg before glancing back up. When his gaze comes back to where it was, Wrex and Tali are both grinning wickedly, eyes pinned to his hand on her leg.

“So, Shepard. How’s things with the little blue lady?” Wrex rumbles, moving his gaze to Garrus. He gulps and glances away.

“Wha — oh. You mean Liara?” Nora asks. Wrex nods. “We, uh. Dying kkkind of puts… a damper… on romance. We’re still friends, though?” It’s awkward and fumbling, and… kind of cute.

“Ahhhh. Back to one night stands and molesting the pilot, then?” Nora chokes on air. Wrex laughs, shaking the truck with his amusement.

“I — you — what?” she sputters.

“Like I couldn’t smell you two on each other?” Wrex snorts. “Half the people on the old Normandy were in bed with each other. You and Joker, it was once? Twice? Not like I cared.”

Nora’s head drops into her hands. This close, Garrus hears her mumble, _“Help me, Lord, this is the most embarrassing day of my life,”_ before she rallies. Glancing over at Wrex, she asks, “That reminds me. Humans, at least, use sex as a stress reliever. Asari do too. Do turians?” She glances up at him, eyebrow raised. He nods and glances away.

 _Don't think about 'stress relief' with Nora. Do not. Do not —_ her voice breaks him loose from the thoughts.

“What do krogan do when they’re offworld? I’m sure there’s people out there who are willing to risk… well… everything to have sex with a krogan, but…” she trails off and shrugs.

Wrex’s laughter shakes the truck again. “We fight, Shepard! What else would we do?”

“That’s it? Fighting gets rid of all that stress? Just poof?” she asks, eyes wide. “Seriously? You don’t ever get post-battle highs?”

“Only after the really good ones, Shepard. The _really_ good ones.” Wrex’s eyes go half-lidded. “After the battle of the Citadel… got a lot of people comin’ to see me. That was a good fight.”

“I’m still upset you made me stay on the Normandy, Shepard,” Tali speaks up. “I mean, honestly. What if you’d run into some kind of… something on the Citadel you’d needed help with? There were geth!”

“I had a krogan and a trigger-happy turian, Tali. We were fine,” Nora chuckles. “Saren was hardly the worst thing I’ve had to fight.”

Garrus snorts. “Right. That’s why you spent half the time fighting him yelling things like ‘you froggy little shit!’ and ‘what the fuck did I do to deserve this?’ Because it was so _easy_.” She glowers up at him.

“Hard, no. Annoying as fuck, yes. It’s like trying to scratch an itch that won’t leave.” She looks over to Wrex. “Back me up here, Wrex. Annoying, not hard, right?”

“Little of both. Krogan aren’t made for chasing down pyjaks.” He sees the comment coming before it happens. Wrex bares his teeth and snarls in Mordin’s direction, “We just crush them.”

The cabin turns quiet again after that. Luckily, the truck bumps to a stop not long after.

  
\- - -

  
The top’s nothing remarkable. Krogan and vorcha, all in distinctive Blood Pack armor, lounge around the entrance despite the late hour. Wrex roars a challenge and they come, one after the other, to their death. Tali watches, almost unbelieving. “Ridiculous. You all kill each other with such… ease… and there’s so few of you. How do you stomach it?” she asks Wrex between fights.

“Sometimes you just do what’s necessary,” he rumbles for an answer, looking down at her from behind their cover. “I’ve offered peace to everyone who comes to Clan Urdnot. They’re still here. That means they don’t want us, don’t want krogan, to be what we once were. It means they want a good fight.”

“And you’ll take the chance from them? Just like that?” she asks, almost unbelieving. Wrex nods. Just then, Nora calls back and motions them forward. After they beat more krogan into unconsciousness, he answers her.

“People run out of chances eventually,” is all he says. She lingers on that until they descend into the hospital. Halfway there, her attention’s called to the spectacle of Nora plugging a flamethrower’s spout and sending the vorcha wielding it up in flames. Wrex spends the next five minutes cackling.

“Tali. Is that truck like the ones back at camp?” Garrus asks when they’ve broken the defenses. She looks over at him and he waves at — yes, it is.

“That _should_ have a combustion manifold. Whether or not it’s usable… we’ll see, I suppose,” she mumbles. Occupied with wiggling the part free, she doesn’t notice the others cracking the hospital doors and going below. But she notices when Nora comes boiling out and retches, all of her last half-dozen ration bars ending up on the ground. “Nora! What —”

Her stomach turns when Nora retches again. After a minute, the woman sits back on her heels and wipes her mouth with the back of her glove. “Stinks. Like death. I’ve… I mean, I don’t have a weak stomach. But it’s worse than a morgue. More like a mass grave. And…” she closes her eyes. “Like we’re not losing enough humans elsewhere. There’s a human body in there. Devil if I know who it is, or why it’s here, but…”

Footsteps behind them make them both tense up. Tali aims her omnitool in the direction — “Oh, it’s you,” she mutters at Garrus. “Don’t you have better sense than to leave a krogan and a salarian alone?”

“I do. Which is why Mordin’s examining the human body and Wrex is standing guard. It’ll occupy them for a minute. Better get down there, though.” She crosses her arms and goes to speak, but his eyes say, _Please_? It’s a request she can’t deny.

“Fine. Hurry up. We need to get out of here if Shepard’s going to keep anything down.” With that, she departs. Mordin’s just down the steps, poking and prodding the body with eerie curiosity. Tali’s no expert on humans, but this one… looks decayed. “Ugh. I’m glad for my filters.”

  
\- - -

  
“I’ll be fine in a minute, Garrus,” Nora mumbles, spitting to try and get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. “Should’ve been wearing my helmet anyway.” She expects him to… nod, or say something, and stick around till she gets off her ass.

Instead, his hand falls to her neck, just inside the high collar of her armor. She can’t help startling. He’s warm, and always has been. On Tuchanka, the heat’s already oppressive. Logic tells her his hand should be just as much so. Rather than oppressive, it’s comforting. When she turns to look up at him, it’s not as far as she thought she’d have to look. He’s kneeling beside her. Very close beside her. “You’re fine, Nora,” he rumbles.

“You’re not puking, and you’re the super-sensitive-nose turian,” she points out. After a minute, she turns her head and spits again. “Seriously. I know when I’m being a wuss.”

“Except you’re not,” he rebutts. “I lived on Omega for two years. You think Aria cared enough to have street cleaners come drag bodies away, like they do on the Citadel? After a while, it just became background scents. Ash, eezo, blood, and dead bodies. _Eau de Omega.”_

Whether consciously or unconsciously, his thumb drifts up and starts gently stroking the baby hairs at her nape. Shivers run down her body. “…okay, that’s acceptable,” she mumbles. “Let’s… Wrex is going to eat Mordin if we don’t hurry.” After that, he withdraws his hand and helps her up. She tries not to miss the touch, but it was… _Stop it! Garrus is off-limits!_ she scolds herself for the second time that week.

“Hopefully all the krogan are gone,” Garrus mumbles as they enter the hospital again. They pause just inside, letting their eyes adjust to the low light. “Hospitals aren’t fun to fight through.”

Before she slips her helmet on, she asks, “What **is** fun to fight through?”

“Gardens… electronics shops… antique stores, but only if they’re classy,” he answers. She bursts into giggles.

“Only if they’re classy?” she giggles after a minute. They rejoin Wrex, Tali, and Mordin. Tali blinks at them, but doesn’t say anything. Wrex and Mordin both chuckle under their breath, nearly in sync. Then they shoot each other venomous looks and refuse to stand anywhere near each other.

Halls, and then stairs, and more rubble-filled hallways await. “This is fascinating,” Tali mutters as they step through a set of doors.

“Actually, krogan —” a bellow cuts Nora off.

“I am the speaker for Clan Weyrloc, offworlders!” someone shouts from a railing above them.

In unison, Tali and Nora chorus, “Offworlders? What’s Wrex, then?”

“You have _shed our blood!_ By rights, you should be dead already!” the krogan continues. “But Weyrloc Guld, the Chief of Chiefs, has ordered you be given leave to flee and spread the message of our coming!” Nora hides her snort.

“Krogan don’t let people go,” Wrex rumbles, pushing to the front. “Why would Clan Weyrloc?”

“If you walk away now, Urdnot, you can tell your children you saw Weyrloc before our blood conquered the stars!” the speaker bellows. “You think your clan impressive? They are pitiful! Weyrloc Guld will destroy them! Our salarian will cure the genophage, and Clan Weyrloc will spread across the galaxy! We will bathe in your blood!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Wrex growls, clenching his fists. Shepard sighs and steps up beside him.

“You’re pretentious and overblown, speaker for Clan Weyrloc,” she calls. “But if that was a crime, asari would be extinct. There is no need for battle, no need to conquer the galaxy. Curing the genophage calls to every krogan, but —”

The speaker interrupts. “No, human! You understand _nothing_! You have not seen the piles of children that never drew breath! All krogan were wronged! We make it right, and then we will have our revenge!”

“I haven’t seen your children. I haven’t seen their graves. But I have seen the graves of countless others. Are your children, your future, worth so much more than that of others? Saren tried to cure the genophage. All he did was make pale imitations of true krogan!” Nora shouts. “The galaxy knows the krogan were wronged! Will you attack now, and have them say, ‘it was right, after all’? Humans often say ‘the best revenge is living well’. How much more would it stick in the craw of the Dalatrass if you cured the genophage and led happy lives?”

“We have decided our revenge! We have the Blood Pack, and we have the salarian! Soon, our clan will number in the millions!” Pacing, the krogan grows even more agitated. “We will bring the krogan empire to life again! Asari will scream as their Citadel plunges into the sun! Salarians will be slaves, and we will feast on their eggs as delicacies! Those who survive will frighten their children with tales of what the Blood Pack did to the turians! If you lack the wisdom to —”

 _ **KRAKOOM**_! Biotics rip through the pipes, spraying gas everywhere. Coupled with Wrex’s shot, the explosion is legendary. “ENOUGH!” Nora roars over the sound of the speaker’s shrieks. “If you want your war, than begin with me!”  _Teach you to talk crap like that about other races,_ she fumes.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Wrex shouts, charging for the stairs. “Garrus! Take care of that little shit in the back!” From her vantage point, Nora can’t see this ‘little shit in the back’, but the report of the sniper rifle makes her certain it’s taken care of. Unsurprisingly, this group proves no more challenging than the last — especially with the way Tali’s drone distracts the largest krogan. After the last enemy falls, Wrex turns to her, eyes hard. “Salarian, huh? Is that why this little shit’s along?” he asks, thumbing over her shoulder in Mordin’s direction. “Should’ve known something was up.”

“Yes. Ish.” She sighs and reaches to fiddle with her braid — but it’s tucked into her helmet. “I agreed to your favor before I agreed to Mordin’s. He’s fairly certain Weyrloc kidnapped his former assistant.”

“Fine. Just keep him out of the way,” Wrex snorts. As he stomps away, Nora winces.

 _Well, pissed off one old friend, at least,_ she sighs. Trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach, she motions the others forward. Just down the hall, Mordin mumbles something about antiseptic and dead flesh. The consoles in the next room over have information. Mordin browses all of it. Even listening to his absent mumbles about the medical terms for the genophage, like it wasn’t a travesty, sets Nora’s stomach turning again. It’s all very vague, nothing Wrex would put as out of place — but she _knows_ what it’s about.

And then, they step into a room with sheeted corpses. “Odd,” she mumbles. “Krogan don’t usually treat their dead like this, do they?” she asks Wrex, creeping up to one table and turning a sheet back. A face, very krogan, stares up at her. There’s no battle wounds. But the face is soft, wider than Wrex’s, and — “Oh my God.”

She whips off her helmet and vomits again.

  
\- - -

  
It takes a minute for Wrex to comprehend. He doesn’t really want to. But the first table has a krogan woman on it. He can smell the dried blood from scalpels, and the drugs from syringes. He throws back the sheet on the next — another woman. He doesn’t have to throw back the next sheet. They all smell the same: ill. “You knew about this,” he breathes, turning on Shepard’s salarian. “You _**KNEW**_!”

Before anyone can say anything, he has the salarian pinned to a wall. “Knew about assistant, yes, knew about work on genophage, yes. Never thought Maelon would stoop to _testing_ — urk!” He presses on the thing’s little throat to shut it up before turning his head to fix his gaze firmly on Shepard.

“You knew about this?” he asks. Garrus looks up from his place kneeling beside her, frowns, and looks back down. Then he helps the human to her feet.

“Knew about the testing? No,” Shepard mutters, spitting to the left. “I… knew Mordin’s assistant was likely working on the genophage, yes. But Wrex… you have to believe me. This is inhuman, unconscionable. I would never — I would have told you if I thought something like this was happening!” She’s shaking with nerves. He doesn’t believe her.

“Like you’d tell me if you brought a salarian into my home, one that worked on the genophage himself?” he snarls. It’s only a suspicion. The way she flinches and looks away confirms it. “What did you do, you little _shit_?” he shouts, whipping his head back toward the salarian. “Salarians don’t live long enough for you to have worked on the original. _What did you do_?”

Words spill from the salarian, slowly at first, and then they pick up speed. By the time the words stop coming, Wrex can barely control himself. “Wrex, listen —” he dimly hears Nora.

“I WILL NOT LISTEN!” he roars. “You bring this murderer into my home and expect me to let it be? He dies before he leaves here!” With that, he begins crushing the thing’s throat beneath his hands. The salarian gurgles and grasps at his hands. “Don’t try, pyjak. It’ll be faster this way.”

Suddenly, ice crisps his fingers and makes them loose. The salarian slips from his hands and darts to the other side of the room, hiding behind Tali. “Will _not_ apologize for work on genophage,” it snaps. “Will apologize for testing, for what Maelon’s done. But work on genophage necessary. Urdnot Wrex fair-minded, levelheaded krogan. Clan Urdnot ready for genophage cure? Perhaps. Clan Weyrloc? Clan Gatatog? No.”

“How do you know that name?” Wrex rumbles out, taking great heaving breaths. _I don’t need to charge Tali. I don’t_. “You weren’t here for that sniveling wretch.”

“Hardsuit cameras. Very useful. Watch all videos taken in field in case of necessary data presence.” The salarian peeks out from behind Tali. Wrex starts towards him. It squeaks and hides again. “Point is, just because one clan ready, not all deserve cure. Work was necessary.”

“Was it, Mordin?” Shepard says. Her voice almost startles him. He lets his head roll towards her, his eyes delivering the anger he feels all the way through his bones. Garrus is still beside her, holding her up. One of the turian’s hands frantically dips in and out of compartments on his armor. “I don’t want to say I do, but I understand why the salarians deployed the genophage in the first place.” Wrex lets a warning rumble slip from his chest. She looks at him, gaze surprisingly level for her pallor. “Don’t, Wrex. I really do. What would you do if the turians were tearing the galaxy apart? If your only hope of victory was through treachery?”

He doesn’t answer. She wouldn’t understand. _I’d fight,_ he wants to say. _I’d fight, and my children would fight, and every krogan born would fight until we were ground into dust. That’s what it means to be krogan._ But she wouldn’t understand. She comes close on occasion. But she’s not krogan.

“Mordin… I know you think it was necessary. But haven’t the krogan learned their lesson already?” she asks the salarian, turning her gaze on it. Garrus finally finds what he’s looking for. He slaps a familiar bright yellow foil packet into her hand. She ignores it. “Even if you hadn’t meddled, it would have taken long enough for the krogan’s bodies to work a way around it… it wouldn’t have threatened anyone for another hundred years, maybe. Look at this. Do you see these women? Desperate for… for even a _chance_ to hold a child they knew wouldn’t die on them?” She gestures at the bodies. “How can you say it’s worth it?”

“Will have to agree to disagree, Shepard,” the salarian’s voice comes from behind Tali. “Can see your point, though. Perhaps… was not so necessary as previously thought.”

Shepard’s shoulders slump. “I suppose that’ll work. Can I expect both of you to keep from fighting each other until we’re out of here? At the very least?” she asks, her head swiveling between Wrex and the salarian.

“Sure,” Wrex grumbles after a minute. “There’s hungry varren back at camp, anyway.” The salarian must nod. Shepard sighs and motions them onward.

  
\- - -

  
Despite the fact she puked up her last two meals, Shepard doesn’t do anything with the BiotiBar he gave her. So he takes it back, slits it open, and shoves it in her hand again. “Not sure I can eat this in here,” she mumbles, not looking up at him. “Between the bodies and the… well. I’m nauseous.”

“And if there’s enemies ahead?” he prods. “I suppose you’ve weaponized vomit, then?” She snorts, but still doesn’t look up. “It’s the, uh. Honey Lemon. You like that, right?”

“I loathe it less, yes,” she answers dryly. “Thank you for the thought, Garrus. But I really am ridiculously nauseous. If I try to eat that —” she nods at the bar, “— it’s coming straight back up.” She sighs and mumbles, barely audible even to him. _“Sure, don’t tell Wrex why you’re bringing Mordin. That’s a good idea. That’ll pan out. Good job, dumbass.”_

“How did you get Wrex to let you bring Mordin along, anyway?” Garrus asks, straggling behind with Nora. Wrex is on point, Tali just behind him. Mordin’s behind even Nora and Garrus.

“Just said, ‘hey, the salarian’s coming’. I figured it wouldn’t be a problem,” she replies, not looking at him. “I am the _queen_ of good choices, aren’t I?” He doesn’t get to answer.

“Got a live one!” Wrex bellows, pounding on a door ahead. Hurriedly, Nora jams the bar into his hand and brings her gun to bear, jogging closer. It opens… to reveal a single krogan, sitting in the corner and mumbling. “…Darg?”

“Battlemaster,” the krogan acknowledges him. “You — you killed the Blood Pack?”

“No, we danced in a circle and asked them to leave,” Wrex snorts. “Yeah, they’re dead. Get back to the camp.”

“Can’t. Can’t! The Weyrloc, they did things to me!” Darg shudders. “Drugs. Injections. Said it was a sacrifice for the good of all krogan, to cure the genophage… It’s all blurry.” He blinks at them. Even from the back, Garrus can see the sheen to his eyes. “Hard to think. Must stay. I have to stay! They have to finish the tests!”

“So you weren’t good enough, and you got caught, so you think sitting in here and rotting for a salarian’s going to redeem you?” Darg doesn’t answer Wrex’s question for a minute. When he does, his words are slow.

“Not big enough to have a shot with the females… never going to have runts of my own… if I help cure the genophage, I’ll matter!” Darg insists.

Wrex brays out laughter. “You think the Weyrloc will _share_ their cure? They’ll destroy Urdnot! But if you want to stay and be their lab varren, go ahead. We don’t need weaklings in Urdnot. It’d take a real krogan to make it back to camp in the state you’re in. Stay put, pyjak.”

“What? No, I can! I can make it back!” After a few seconds of hesitation, the krogan rises to his feet. He’s wobbly, but he’s upright.

And then, Tali steps forward. “You? Pff. He said a krogan, not someone whining like a maiden asari after a bad meld. You’d better stay put.” For the rest of his life, he’s not sure if it’s the insult, or the fact a quarian said it.

But Darg roars. “I can do it! I **_can_**! And I’m going to the female camp!” He lumbers past Wrex and Tali, past all three of them in the tail end of the procession.

Wrex calls after him, “Ha! You? Make it to the female camp? That’d mean you were worth something!” Garrus sees the words hit, and the other krogan slowly enters a run.

After the footsteps fade, Garrus can’t help but remark, “Nothing like a military pep talk.” Shepard breaks into a giggle. Tali follows, and even Wrex and Mordin crack smiles. They’re all still amused when they step into a rain of fire in the next room. Instantly, Nora brings up her arm and covers them in a bubble of biotic energy.

“Do your thing, Wrex! Break some skulls!” she shouts. He barely needs the bidding as he charges through the biotic shield and into one of the Blood Pack across the bridge. Surprisingly, Tali follows, discharging her shotgun into krogan heads at point blank range from behind both Wrex and her drone. The drone flits away.

A minute later, he hears the growls of varren. “The optics, Chatika! _The optics_!” Tali shrills.

“Did you help her name the drone? I didn’t,” Shepard asks. He shakes his head, focused on one of the larger krogan. _Bang_! One round through the left eye. “Also… do you still have that bar? I realize I shouldn’t be using biotics on an empty stomach.” She actually looks mortified over that. “Karin’s going to kill me. Don’t tell?”

  
\- - -

  
Once they get down the ramps, Nora thinks, _It’ll be easier from here._

Then she hears a krogan bellowing. “Tremble and die, offworlders and scum! I am Weyrloc Guld, Chief of Chiefs!”

“Oh, good! I thought the pretentiousness was a one-off!” she shouts back at the large krogan across the room. “Nice to know it’s genetic!” She hurls a warping field across the room and ducks. The shriek of armor collapsing beneath it tells her it hit. “By the way, Chief of Chiefs? Got a friend here who disagrees with you!”

“FOR URDNOT!” Wrex bellows, slamming into Guld. Garrus’s dry chuckle comes over her comm, followed by a little giggle from Tali. Mordin says nothing, but she glances over and hears him humming as he fires off a cryo-shock. The fight doesn’t last long. When they’re done, Wrex is still atop Guld’s corpse, pounding his face into a pulp.

“He’s dead, Jim,” Nora points out, approaching but still on guard. The odd sound of the name pulls Wrex from his rage.

“Jim? That’s Wrex, Nora. Are you okay?” Tali asks, approaching and resting a hand on her shoulder.

“…it’s a quote…” Shepard sighs. “Never mind. Let’s get on with this.” More hallways, filled with rubble and the stink of death. Even through the air filters in her helmet, she can smell it. When they turn a corner to find a locked door, she grumbles, but readies her gun. Tali’s already on it, carefully pulling apart circuits and splicing them back together. The door gives way quickly and opens —

To a fairly normal lab. It’s grimy. The equipment seems outdated. But the salarian at the end of the room isn’t shackled. There’s no guard, like she expected. “Maelon? Alive? Unharmed?” Mordin questions, stepping forward. “No signs of restraint, no evidence of torture. Don’t understand.”

“For such a smart man, Professor, you always had trouble seeing evidence that disagreed with your preconceptions,” Maelon calls out, shutting something on his screen. “How long will it take you to admit I’m here because I wish to be? I’m not being forced, or drugged. Forced behavior modification always results in mental degradation. Even in cases of ‘Reaper’ indoctrination, test subjects always lose higher cognitive functions.”

“Needed you at peak capacity for work on genophage. Alternate source of coercion, then?” Mordin inquires. Nora glances at him. The bright hope on his face hides, just barely, the desperation beneath.

“Mordin.” She shuffles closer and gently rests her hand on his shoulder. “It’s… I don’t think so. He came here voluntarily. To cure the genophage?” On the last words, she looks to Maelon. He nods at her.

“Impossible! Whole —!” Mordin starts off, voice impassioned. She claps a hand over his mouth.

“Do you think you want Wrex to find out more about what you did?” she hisses between her teeth. It’s little more than a breath of air.

“Mm,” Mordin agrees. She lets go. He resumes the tirade, but pointed in a different direction. “Experiments?! Live subjects! Prisoners! _Torture! **Executions**_! Your doing?”

“We already have the blood of millions… no, billions… on our hands, Doctor. If it takes a bit more to put things right, I can deal with it!” Maelon snaps. Absorbed in the fight, Nora doesn’t hear Wrex step up behind her until he’s right there.

“You think these experiments are justified, then?” he rumbles. Her subsequent jump and squawk are remarkably in sync, if not graceful.

“Battlemaster Urdnot,” Maelon greets him. Nora blinks, shocked. “We — the salarians as a whole — committed cultural genocide. Nothing we, or I, do will _ever_ be justified! My experiments are monstrous. But only because… because I was taught to be a monster. You, and only you, _Professor_ , taught me the ends justify the means! I will undo what we did the only way I know how!”

“I knew when you came to me this would be trouble,” Wrex sighs. Nora turns her head and stares at him, her best bug-eyed ‘ _what’_ expression in place.

“Maelon doesn’t need rescuing, Doctor,” Tali murmurs from the back. “What now?”

“Have to end this,” Mordin says, voice suddenly firm.

Maelon squawks and leaps backward, drawing a pistol. “You can’t face the truth, can you, Professor? Can’t admit your brilliant mind made you commit an atrocity!” Mordin leaps forward —

And runs squarely into Wrex. “Out of the way, battlemaster!” Mordin spits. “Unacceptable experiments! Won’t change his mind. Must end it!”

“Unacceptable? Like raising up the krogan? Or unacceptable like tainting us? Unacceptable like taking away the hope of an entire people?” Wrex says, turning to stare Mordin down. “Our women suffer enough. They shouldn’t have to come here and let this happen to them. But your assistant’s doing more to help us than any of the rest of you pjyaks.”

“Worth it? Worth the death of fertile women?” Mordin challenges. Nora sees the looks on their faces. Twitching her fingers, she sets up a biotic barrier between them, ready to extend it around either one at the flick of a wrist. Then Wrex’s gaze slides sideways and pins her. She doesn’t drop the barrier, but she looks away.

“No. It wasn’t.” Wrex doesn’t say anything more for a minute. “Tell me, pyjak. If your children died, and your children’s children, and your grandchildren’s grandchildren… if they all lived hopeless lives, what wouldn’t you do to bring them hope?”

Nothing happens for a heartbeat. Then two more. Those heartbeats stretch into what feels like a year. Finally, Mordin drops his gaze. “Understand. Still unacceptable.” He glances around Wrex and calls, “All Weyrloc dead, Maelon. Project over. Get out.”

“You heard him,” Wrex rumbles, turning and staring down at Maelon. “Out!”

“What — where — where am I supposed to go?” Maelon cries, running to the far side of the room and piling things into a bag.

“Try Omega. Always room for one more there. Whether you start a clinic or a merc band… well. That’s up to you,” Garrus drawls, watching the salarian with eagle eyes.

“If genophage needs to end… not like this,” Mordin mumbles, stepping around Wrex and opening the display. “Apologies, Shepard. Misunderstood mission parameters. No kidnapping. Thank you for effort.”

“What about the research?” Tali asks, stepping up beside Mordin and glancing through the files covering the screen. “It was bought with blood, but it might be useful in the future.” Mordin doesn’t say anything. Nora glances at the door as it shuts behind Maelon. Then she takes a deep breath.

“Mordin. Save that data. I… I think you should work on a cure for the genophage.” Every head in the room swings around and pins her with incredulous eyes. “What? I do! I even have reasons!”

“What reasons could be good enough? Would take experiments, most likely. Dangerous to anyone who underwent treatment. Hard to formulate cure for original genophage,” Mordin mumbles, eyes still pinned to her.

She takes another breath. “The Reapers are coming. I have no doubt of that. When — not if, _when_ — they come, we’ll need soldiers. That doesn’t mean I want krogan to be cannon fodder. It means we’re going to need everyone we can get our hands on.” Nobody else says anything. She wraps her hands around her elbows and continues. “If nothing else, you could use it as a bargaining chip, right? Tell the krogan ‘we have a cure and if you’re good…’” she trails off. “Please, Mordin. I understand, at least a little, why the genophage was used in the first place. But can you tell me it’s worth the deaths of those fully grown women out there? Is it worth the hope of an entire people?”

“Krogan not ready —” Mordin starts. She’s ready for the argument.

“But some of them _are!_ You’ve met Wrex. You’ve seen how hard he’s trying to bring the clans together. It’s a lot of hard work, but don’t they deserve a chance? At least a little one?” More silence. She’s beginning to hate it. Her words sit in the air, infused with every ounce of persuasion she has.

“…point taken, Shepard. Will save data. Work on cure… perhaps.”

  
\- - -

  
“You’re sure that the STG won’t mess with anything else? They’ll just clean up the mess Maelon made?” Nora asks him when they’re back at camp.

“Certain. Wipe of all local data copies, dispose of bodies, etcetera. STG very good at keeping quiet,” he answers. “Thank you, Shepard. Appreciate help.”

“I’m not going to say it’s nothing, Mordin. But thank you for trusting me. And…” she hesitates. “I’m sorry. I should have told Wrex about everything before the trip. I didn’t mean for you to get choked. Really.”

Mordin prods his neck gently. “Minor bruising. Will survive.”

“I gathered,” she says with a smile. “I need to go eat something other than Garrus’s stock of honey lemon Biotibars. Good night, Mordin.” With that, she strides off. If he looks up through the holes in the ground, he can see the light of early morning. But none of them have slept, so it’ll do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Nora says to Uvenk is paraphrased from a famous quote. 
> 
> "[Blindly] following ancient customs and traditions doesn't mean that the dead are alive, but that the living are dead," from Ibn Khaldun.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be a little more regular now that things have settled down into their normal level of blah. This chapter is messy, but it's here early-ish to make up for the gaps on some of the others.


	15. Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't know how to react. So she doesn't. There are more important things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers Tali's loyalty mission. Giant mess of a chapter, like normal.

After watching the others come back and collapse as she rises, Jack’s left at a loss for what to do. Then she realizes — “Hey! Ashley!” she shouts. The soldier raises one finger, focused on the mounted gun in her hands. Jack climbs up onto a nearby crate and watches her blow varren away.

It’s slow, but mildly amusing. Jack helps, tossing tiny shots of biotic energy into the path of the varren when they get too close. (Well, the shots are _relatively_ small.) Both of them are focused on the never-ending varren when Jacob wanders over and asks, “What’s so interesting?”

Jack almost throws him into a wall. Ashley shrieks and drops the gun before spinning around and stabbing her finger into his chest. “You _ass_! I had them on the run!”

“Whoa, okay,” he responds, lifting his hands slowly and blinking at them. “Who’d you have on the run?”

“The varren, dumbass,” Jack snaps. “Ugh. Whatever. Ash. You want to show me how not to fuck up at hand-to hand again?”

Jacob looks from her to Ashley and back. “I can help with that,” he points out.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Right, and have you report the dimensions of my asscrack to Cerberus? Yeah, no thanks.” She eyes him. “Don’t know why the hell you’dve ever left the Alliance for that bunch of dipshits.”

“Right?” Ashley mutters, giving the gun a longing look. “The number of Cerberus camps, or bases, we blew up while we chased Saren was unreal. And almost all of them were failures. We found one base — they were trying to reprogram rachni, or something, so they could use them as weapons. Worked out well for them.” Ashley grins viciously.

“I have my reasons,” is all Jacob says, turning and walking away. Peculiarly enough, he whistles as he goes.

  
\- - -

Tuchanka’s morbid, dusty, and stinks. But none of its channels are likely to be tapped by Cerberus. Krogan are notorious for how quickly they attack those in their system. So when Jacob leaves Jack and Ashley to their sparring, he walks into the underground tunnels until he can’t hear the noise of camp any longer. Turning on his omnitool flashlight, he scans the area. Tracks, an unreal amount of rubble, ruin, and old parts, with skeletons here and there, but there’s nobody living around. Satisfied, he hunkers down and opens a message panel.

_Taylor reporting!_

Seconds later, his omnitool lights up and he answers the call with a salute. “Where are you?” the other person asks.

“Tuchanka, Admiral. One of Shepard’s old crewmates, the Urdnot, returned to his clan. He’s trying to unite the krogan under one banner… and I think it’s working.” At his words, one eyebrow goes up. “I don’t know how, or why. But even with opposition, he’s pulling them together slowly.”

“Interesting. And Shepard?”

“Shepard’s been… less unstable lately. When she’s not in her cabin or on missions, she’s working on battle plans, meditating with the asari justicar, or helping train some of the civilian crew in firearms.” He blinks at the screen. “We found out one of the crew was a latent biotic, actually. Maybe it’ll improve his attitude.”

“Interesting. So she’s beaten the depression noted in her file, then?”

Jacob has to balk at that. “With all due respect, I don’t believe so. I’m no doctor, but I think she’s maybe gone into… remission? Is that the right word?”

“No, but I know what you mean.” The other person leans forward, steepling their fingers. “Has she spoken with the Illusive Man recently?”

He snorts. “No. She loathes the man. I’m fairly certain the XO’s been trying to get her to call him since Ilium, maybe Omega, and it hasn’t happened. I’ve noted a suspicious amount of activity on all the accounts Cerberus uses to fund the Normandy. The paperwork would check out, but none of the stuff being ‘bought’ is showing up on the ship. Or… at least, I don’t think it is. I’m not sure what a quadruple bonded eezo mill is, but I haven’t seen one.”

His response is… another snort. “I know, and I know they’re only something used in biotic amplifier production. That’ll be Karin Chakwas for the paperwork. Shepard’s quarian probably already has her fingers in the rest of Cerberus’s bank accounts.”

“I’m not sure where Shepard plans to go next. We’ve upgraded the Normandy to the gills. Right now, I think we might be able to take out the Destiny Ascension on our own.” He pauses. “Probably not the Everest, though. Or the Mauna Kea. Don’t worry, Shepard’s really _not_ unstable enough to try that.”

“You underestimate the asari. Most do. That being said, I must go.”

“Understood, Admiral.”

  
\- - -

  
Wrex returns to camp, the women and children of clan Weyrloc in tow, mid-afternoon. Everything seems mostly normal — until he notes the absence of Shepard and her tattooed friend. “Where’s Shepard?” he asks the human in shining armor.

“Battlemaster Urdnot sir, she’s above ground, testing Jack’s abilities. I offered to help, in case things got out of control, but she only took Garrus and Samara,” he answers with a crisp, very-Alliance salute. Wrex eyes him.

 _That salute’s too practiced for an Alliance defector. So either Shepard makes him salute — ha! — or he’s still Alliance under it all._ “Samara?” he asks, rather than comment on it.

“We have an asari justicar onboard, sir. She’s been helping train all the biotics a little further. The shuttle brought down the rest of the Normandy’s ground team a little while ago,” he explains. “Some of our people are using your tunnels for exercise and sparring, if that’s alright, sir.”

Wrex grunts, “Thanks, kid,” and walks off, planning to find Shepard. It’s easier when he approaches the ramp to the surface and feels the ground shake. It shakes more the closer he comes to the surface.

To his surprise, they’re not far from the exit. And Shepard’s on the defense. Jack, tattoos gleaming with sweat, slams shockwave after shockwave into Shepard’s shield. Every time, the barrier becomes a little less opaque. Crisp and tangy, the scent of their biotics fills the air till it’s almost overwhelming. Nora’s power ripples and rolls, twice — no, three times the power she wielded on the first Normandy, like a sea. But all that pales next to Jack’s biotics. Her power seems almost incomprehensible. It’s like an angry windstorm, immense and inescapable, at least double the strength of Shepard’s. Maybe more.

He stands and watches until Shepard finally goes to her knees, barely holding the barrier any longer. “Enough,” calls a soft, somber voice. “This will do. You hold up to constant attack well, Commander.” Jack relaxes at the voice, letting the fight drip from her body like sweat. Wrex approaches, but slowly. “And Jack — were you to ever turn to mercenary work, I think I would consider it an honor to hunt you.”

“Shit, that’s pretty much a fuckin’ compliment,” the tattooed woman pants, using her forearm to mop her face. “Can we go beneath ground yet? S’hotter than a krogan’s quad out here.”

“How do you know that, human?” Wrex rumbles. Jack shouts and spins, biotics pulsing over her body for an instant before she relaxes.

“Oh, it’s just you, you old fuck,” she sighs.

Nora, still on her knees and panting, scolds her. “Jack, I’m pretty sure he’s crushed more skulls than you’ve seen. How long were you a merc, Wrex? Like a thousand years?”

“Long enough,” he says with a chuckle. “You sure humans and krogan don’t interbreed? This one’s worse than you, Shepard.”

“Fuck yeah I am,” Jack boasts, planting her hands on her hips. “Krogan don’t have shit on me.”

Rumbling laughter from a few steps away, two-toned — Garrus. “Don’t give either of them a clan, Wrex, they’re bad enough already,” he tells him, reaching out to Shepard. Surprisingly, the turian’s in his undersuit, not his full armor. Shepard pulls herself up, using his hand as leverage. When she staggers and stumbles into Garrus, ending up with her entire left side pressed against him, Wrex isn’t sure whether or not it was genuine.

“Ha! Give them a clan? Almost krogan doesn’t mean krogan,” Wrex scoffs. “I already have krogan saying you shouldn’t attend the Maw-Fall tonight.”

Shepard eyes him, propped up on Garrus. “Do you want me to take everyone but Grunt back up to the Normandy?” Her gaze goes dark and troubled. “I’ve already killed two of the opposing clan leaders. I don’t want to —”

“Give in? Ha! They can deal with it! You and I killed more thresher maws than those runts have ever seen!” he bellows, laughing. “How many did we take out on the first Normandy? Twelve?”

“Thirteen, actually,” she answers, grinning. “By the way… Have you met the Justicar Samara?” Not far from them all, but still removed, stands an asari. They’re beautiful, as asari are, but this one radiates authority and power. More than most of the Matriarchs he’s met. Shepard waves them over. “She’s sworn herself to my service until such time as the Collector threat is a threat no longer.”

“Met, no. Heard of, yes,” Wrex answers. When Samara approaches, he nods at her. “Asari. Heard a lot about you. Whole ship of slavers without backup… ran over the Sundown mercs like a bloodraging krogan…”

“They were deserving of justice, and so I gave it to them,” she answers, face stoic and hands folded behind her. “It is good to meet you, Urdnot Wrex. Few exist outside of asari society who know such things as do I. And too, I have heard much of you.”

After a second, Jack says, “Sundown mercs? Never heard of them.”

“They were a group of asari, given especially to the use of Ardat-Yakshi. Not all Ardat-Yakshi are so dangerous as Morinth. Many leave their victims alive in body, but vacant in mind.” Samara inclines her head. “When I discovered this, I hunted them. You do not know of them because they exist no longer.”

“Eclipse replaced ‘em,” Wrex grunts. “Lot less stupid, though. They don’t use the meld-freaks. Bad for business.” He scratches the cowl to his armor and focuses on Shepard. “Didn’t come up here for pleasantries, Shepard. You think that salarian’ll really follow through on that data?”

She nods. “Mordin’s a good man, if misled. I have faith in him. The… what he did before he came here… He’s older now. I think he wants to leave a legacy, more than just bodies and scientific papers.”

“And if he doesn’t?” She blinks at him.

Then she looks away. “Well. I’m… not entirely the most trustful person in the galaxy… and my favoritest quarian knows that. So we may or may not, you know, have a copy of the data that got downloaded from that place. Because Tali’s wonderful.”

His bellow of laughter echoes.

  
\- - -

  
Krogan parties aren’t nearly as wild as Ashley expected. Ryncol makes the rounds, true, but there’s more telling of stories and gorging on the thresher maw’s remains than anything else. Fires blaze all over the camp, not far removed from each other, but far enough to offer privacy to those huddled around each. In the dim dusk, it’s an oddly peaceful sight: krogan of all ages, sitting about, trading words, laughing over remembered wounds.

“You seem pensive,” Thane’s odd voice rumbles next to her ear. She glances at him and nods, scooting over. She’s perched in one of the barely habitable houses, on the second story. Till now, her company’s been a bottle of rum.

“Kind of. Sometimes I wonder… well, it’s more often than sometimes.” She grins sheepishly, tucking hair behind her ear. It’s grown out a little now, but it still barely passes her shoulders. “What would the universe be like if things were just a little different? What if the Krogan Rebellions had never happened? Would the krogan outnumber every other race? Could the Citadel be shaped after them, instead of the asari?” She falls silent and then, barely above a breath, “Would Sovereign — would any of the Reapers stand a chance against a universe ruled by krogan?”

He listens, and nods. “Such thoughts are hardly uncommon. I, too, do much wondering.” His eyes glaze over, go darker, and he speaks, the words falling into a strange cadence. “Blood on my hands. The blood of her murderers. I pray only from habit, not from desire. The room stays too cold as I leave. Leaving, I wonder. Had I left this life, would she live? Would Kolyat be at my side? Would there be more children born from the both of us?”

She looks away. The moment seems private for her. When his eyes lighten and turn to her again, he opens his mouth. She can read the apology in his furrowed face, so she speaks first. _“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been.”_ Thane blinks and she smiles. “John Greenleaf Whittier. One of Earth’s many gifted madmen. Do you think there were ever krogan poets?”

Something about her words send Thane’s jaw to the ground. “You mean you do not — ah. My mistake. I forget often how little time humans have spent among us. Krogan sing often. Events like these, where there are causes for celebration. At the end of great battles. Funerals, but only for the honored… shamans and chiefs, usually.” He smiles. Ashley’s own jaw barely stays put.

 _Aliens aren’t my cup of tea, but **damn**._ His voice jerks her back to the present.

“Your friend, Urdnot Wrex — there is probably a song about him. If Grunt proves a worthy warrior, he will have one as well. It is the way of krogan.” He tilts his head to the side. “Perhaps they do not sing because outsiders are present?”

“Well, Wrex seems rather… adamant on them accepting Shepard, at least,” she answers, wry, her smile twisting up. “I think I’m pretty high up the list, too.” She hesitates and moves to speak more, but below them, a roar draws attention to the middle of the camp.

“Urdnot! Remember glories past!” Wrex bellows, his voice echoing. Ashley’s certain she could hear it at least a kilometer down the tunnels, if she was in one. “We have little, but we have our blood, and who we are!” His next words are echoed by the entire camp. _“WE ARE KROGAN!”_ The cry shakes the ground. Their perch wobbles. And then Wrex starts singing. His voice pitches low, and to start, he voices no words to carry to her ears. Thane’s ears perk up and he scoots forward. Slowly, the other krogan join in.

Sound, deep and guttural, rolls beneath her. She shuts her eyes and basks in it. Eventually, words join in. It’s not songs so much as chants. They’re repetitive, easy to pick up, and she finds herself humming along. Next to her, Thane’s dual-toned voice joins in. Below, she can hear someone high and sweet, very soprano, but oddly filtered. _Definitely Tali_. If anyone else sings, they’re lost to the thrum of krogan voices.

  
\- - -

  
After the warmth and sand of Tuchanka, the Normandy feels too sterile, even for Nora. On boarding, she steps over to Joker and unbraids her hair, right over top his chair. He doesn’t notice she’s there until sand starts drifting down, settling in the folds of his clothes. “What the — hey, hey! What’d I do to deserve this?” he sputters, whirling on her.

“Something, I’m sure,” she says, stepping back with a laugh. “Listen, Miranda told me I need to talk to the Illusive Dickhead last night. There’s every chance he’ll send us haring off on some other dumb mission that may or may not be a trap.” She rolls her eyes as extravagantly as possible. “Get ready to turn around and haul ass, okay? In the meantime, take off for…” Nora flips open a display on her omnitool. “The… Nubian Expanse. Yeah. There. Jack wants to go back and blow up the torture chamber she was raised in. I’m hardly about to tell her ‘no’.”

“Ah, Cerberus,” he mutters, spinning back around and pulling a display up. “If it’s not illegal or unethical, it’s damn close.” He doesn’t see Miranda, walking past Nora and into the CIC, freeze up. Nora, however, does catch the way she stops mid-stride and can’t help smirking a little.

 _Good. She does feel a little guilty, then,_ Shepard thinks smugly. “Alright. Off to speak with my least favorite person.” And she does go straight to the QEC. When the _(pretentious, overblown, ridiculously opulent)_ familiar display of the Illusive Man loads, she greets him with a curt, “Richard.”

“I — ah, another game, Shepard,” he says. “I’m glad to see you’re not impertinent enough to ignore direct orders.” She itches to say something, but remains silent. “Regardless, this is important. EDI found a lot of things on the Collector ship.”

“I know. She sent me the report,” Shepard replies. “Both Reapers and Collector ships use a certain sort of IFF. Theoretically, all we’d need to cross the Omega 4 without getting in trouble is one of those, right?” His eyebrows go up, just a centimeter. _I’m occasionally pretty smart, too,_ she grumbles at him inside her head.

“…correct, Shepard.” He steeples his fingers. Stifling a laugh is difficult. It’s the most Dr. Evil gesture she’s ever seen. “We have… an option. Recently, an Alliance science team confirmed the Great Rift on Klendagon is an impact crater, one from a mass accelerator weapon. I tasked a team with finding either the weapon, or its target. They produced results by finding both. The weapon’s trajectory helped us find the target — a 37 million year old Reaper. Dead, and trapped in the gravity of a brown dwarf.”

“Wait, what? Thirty-seven million years, and galactic drift hadn’t taken the Reaper far enough away for it to be untrackable?” she asks, more than a little incredulous. “And even if it didn’t because of the brown dwarf, how do we know that dwarf isn’t volatile enough to do something bad to us? For all we know, the Reaper could have shot dark energy into the core of the thing before it died. Maybe the weapon used to take out the Reaper — which, by the way, is kind of a wild tale — left dangerous residue.”

He laughs, dry and humorless. “Paranoid, aren’t we?” he mutters, tapping his cigarette butt out and lighting another. “There was more than a little bit of work involved in finding the drift trajectory, but in the end, we got lucky, Shepard. This is our shot to get a genuine Reaper IFF.”

She crosses her arms and steps closer. “Is it? Or is this another trap, Richie?” He rolls his eyes, but answers.

“A trap of my own devising, no. But there is… a risk.” He taps his cigarette and takes a drag before he goes on. “Dr. Chandana’s team… their reports have been erratic lately. Hard to follow, even for our top scientist. Chandana’s always been eccentric. Who knows what the Reaper’s residual life energy might have done to them?”

Honestly, her brain flatlines. “So you’re sending my team and I into an unknown situation, where there could possibly be oodles of indoctrinated doctors? And you don’t think that’s a bad idea _at all_?”

“I’m not saying it’s a good one. But unless you feel like hunting down a Reaper, shaking its hand, and asking it nicely to hand over an IFF —” he starts. She glares at him. “We need that IFF if this is going to be any kind of success at all, Shepard.” He takes another drag. “You’ve turned worse situations into wins. Virmire… great military tacticians might have quailed over what you had to do there.”

Ice runs down her spine and she goes rod-straight. “Don’t talk about Virmire,” she spits. “I’ll do this thing, _Dick_ , but not yet. I’m not going to that… thing… until I’m convinced we’re ready to face down an army. Civilian crew, too, not just the ground team.” She uncrosses her arms and lets them hang, staring him down. “Any problems with that, sir?”

“Not at all, Shepard. You’ve certainly used enough money to outfit your ship and crew. Getting killed now won’t help anyone.” He leans forward, cigarette hand dangling from the chair. “Strangely, we’ve heard of few attacks on colonies since you hit the Collector ship. Only one.”

“Good. Maybe they’re figuring out this cycle isn’t one to mess with.” She nods at him and strides out of the QEC. “Why does talking to him _always_ give me a headache?” she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Shower, clothes, and then Samara. Hopefully meditation will make me forget what an ass he is.”

  
\- - -

Pting! Pting! Pting! Messages hit Garrus’s omnitool, the sounds almost overlapping. He blinks, setting down his cup of mess hall kava, and opens them.

_guess who is going to be ur FAVE pilot 4ever now??_   
_hint it’s me_   
_jeffrey michael moreau, biggest bada$$ in the glxy_   
_but u wanna no why I’m ur fave now rite_   
_stuck a datapad under ur console full of goodies_   
_u will now b able 2 romance any human lady u like :)))_   
_altho it better b nor_   
_that's why I planted it_   
_u don’t have a human fetish rite?? just a nora fetish???_

Garrus laughs helplessly before sending a message back.

_I hope you were good. I’ve heard enough stories about your gifts from the Alliance on the old Normandy._

Almost instantly, the pilot messages back.

_I AM SO NICE 2 U AND THIS IS UR REPAYMENT_   
_FINE_

More helpless laughter spills from him. He doesn’t reply this time. Instead, he stands up from the mess table and proceeds to the forward battery. “Under my console…” he mumbles to himself, rummaging under the one he uses most. Nothing comes up.

“Officer Vakarian, I believe Mr. Moreau hid his datapad behind the left console, not the center one,” EDI tells him helpfully. He turns towards the blue ball of light and nods before checking that console. Indeed, a datapad’s stuck to the bottom. It comes off easily enough, but he wipes it down before he turns it on, just in case.

Turning it on, he touches the first collection of data… very tentatively. Gag gifts of porn (often elcor, hanar, or volus) were Joker’s favorite thing to do to the other people on the Normandy. But what comes up actually looks normal. The collection’s named, _Differences in Human Romantic Culture._ Everything in it seems to be academic articles, all written by asari, turians, or salarians. The next collection, _Humans and Turians: The Important Stuff,_ is much the same. The last collection’s named… more like Joker might name it. _What Could Go Wrong Other Than Everything?_ There’s only one file in that one. Somehow, he’s not surprised that the author’s name is Mordin Solus.

He skims the last article and comes out more dismayed than he’d planned. “So she could have a deadly reaction to me… could poke holes in her if I don’t file my talons… I could have a deadly reaction to her… she could… That one can’t be right, could it?” he mumbles, peering at the article. “The common human sex drive seems unusually high, compared to all but asari. Often in human-turian relationships, there is a disparity of sexual desire between the two partners, often leading to malcontent in the relationship. Some turians were unable to…” If anyone were there to see him turn blue over the last line, they would. But he pages away from that article and returns to the second collection. The articles here seem less depressing.

Two paragraphs into the first article, he finds out human men are traditionally the aggressor and initiator. It seems odd. He scratches his fringe over it for a solid five minutes. “I guess human men don’t polish their fringes, then,” he finally mutters, and moves on. The next paragraph soothes him, speaking about how it’s become more common in the last few centuries for things to be done differently. As he reads, he absently searches out his fringe brush. Human men might not make the same practices, but it’ll hardly hurt.

His second article talks about the great variety in human relationships. Absorbed in it, he pages to the next article without realizing it’s a video file. “Oh!” he chirps, sitting back and setting down his fringe brush. A human woman’s onscreen, dressed in an odd white uniform. He vaguely recognizes it as similar to the one Doctor Chakwas wears. Long hair makes her similar to Shepard, but her skin’s somewhere between Jacob’s dark earth and Nora’s paleness. He watches, curious and confused, as the woman talks about how long she’s been running the base by herself, and —

There’s an explosion offscreen. The woman shrills about them “breaking through! They’re breaking through!”

 _What kind of relevance does this have, Joker?_ Garrus wonders, but keeps watching. A half dozen turians march in, guns trained. The human falls to her knees and begs for her life. _Shepard would never do that._

“Anything! Anything at all, please!” the woman whimpers.

Joker’s purpose for sending him the video becomes clear when the turians grin and drop their pants in tandem. “Joker!” Garrus barks out, slamming the datapad down. “EDI! I don’t know what you can do to make your pilot’s life miserable without hurting him, but do it!” he snaps at the display not a meter away.

Blue light forms up. “Is that an order, sir?” she asks.

“If that’s what it needs to be!” She dissipates and he stands, casting a disgusted look at the datapad. “Wait, I’d…” He breathes out in frustration and picks it up. He unlocks it and hastily hits the back button, taking him away from the video of the human and her… turian friends. Going back to the collection page, he eyes the list and snorts. “First Contact Whore. Right. Original.” With that, he stows the datapad under the nearest crate and exits to the mess hall, uncomfortable with staying near that datapad. Once there, he gnaws on his talon for a minute before making a decision. _This… all the reading in the world… isn’t going to change anything unless I do something. Do I do the brave thing, or the turian thing?_

Enduring, in the turian way, doesn’t sound appealing. Not when he knows how the tiny ‘hairs’ on her nape feel, brushing against his thumb… and that through a glove. So he walks for the elevator, steps firm… if hesitant. When he gets there, EDI’s ball pops up. “Mr. Moreau will find his access to certain sites oddly restricted soon, Officer Vakarian,” she informs him. “I also took the liberty of informing Operative Taylor of the secret stash of Tupari in the mess hall fridge. Will that be all?”

He almost says yes, but then — “Where’s the commander right now? In her cabin?”

“Not presently, Officer. She currently meditates in starboard observation. I believe she was meditating with Samara, but Samara left to find Jack.” The blue ball… he wants to say it blinks at him innocently. “She did not think to ask me.”

Snorting, he says, “Thank you, EDI.” The blue light dissolves again and he straightens his collar.

 _Should’ve changed,_ he thinks after a second. But the crew quarters are full of snoring night-shifters, and he doesn’t want to lose his bravado. So he marches onward to starboard, and when the door opens, he calls out, “Shepard?”

“Mmm?” a soft hum answers him. He steps inside. The lights are low. With the mass effect fields racing over the hull as they travel through FTL, lights are barely necessary. Every few seconds, a flash of blue interrupts the field of stars on view. “What is it, Garrus?”

He glances around and doesn’t see her until he looks down. Her sitting profile’s silhouetted against the window. With every flash, he can see the odd purple rim to her eyes, the one her cybernetics gave her. He forgets it’s there, usually. But it’s still Nora. And… right now, she’s doing something very odd, even for her. “What’s with the spoons?” he asks, waving one hand at the spoons hovering over her outstretched palms.

“Control exercise. If I haven’t crushed them by the time Samara gets back, she’ll let me move on to something smaller,” she answers, letting them float a little higher. “It’s tedious, but it’s good for me. I can’t blow up _everything_ all the time. Just most of it.” She grins at him. Almost painfully, his heart jumps.

“Ah. I… Shepard…” she looks up at him, face finally turned in his direction. “Nora. I need to talk to you.”

“I’m right here, big guy,” she remonstrates gently. He nods and swallows, looking away. When he looks back, the spoons are floating above her shoulders, and she’s finding her feet. “…what’s wrong, Garrus? You… is this about Sidonis?” she asks, stepping closer. He shakes his head. “C’mon, talk to me.”

One of her hands rests gently in the center of his chest. Fondness, mixed with something stronger, something he doesn’t want to label yet, wells up inside him. The feeling itself almost chokes him with its intensity. “It’s… nothing’s _wrong_ , exactly,” he mumbles, trying to find the worlds. “Do I — do you —” He huffs and raises his hand to his forehead, tapping his talons against the bridge of his nose. “How much do you… know about turian relationships?” he finally grinds out.

Nora frowns. “Not much. Basically, what you’ve told me, about sex being really casual. That’s… really it.” She squints at the wall past him. “I think that’s all you told me, right?”

“Do you… know it’s common for, uh, turians to… seek out their former superiors after they retire from the military and… propose relationships?” he mumbles. He can feel the heat rising up his neck. Trying to will it away doesn’t do much.

“Really? I mean, I guess it’s logical enough,” she answers, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes dance off, away from him. “Turian society seems structured around the military enough to make that sort of normal.” Then her gaze snaps back, almost burning him with its earthy light. “Why?” Her lips curl up. “Do you want me to help you woo a nice turian, Garrus?”

Laughter bursts from him. It’s more like nervous giggles. “Ah… cut off the last few words, and you’re close,” he hedges. She frowns, steps away, and counts on her fingers.

“I don’t get it,” she states after a minute, eyes flattening in confusion. “No iteration of that where words go missing makes any sense.” He inhales.

 _Time to be straightforward._ He peels off his gloves, dropping them to the floor, and steps forward. Nora, outlined against the window by every blue pulse and backlit by the stars, almost takes his courage just by her eyes catching his. As gently as he can, he settles his hands on her shoulders. She’s wearing the thin buttoned shirts she favors aboard ship. Beneath it, her skin’s unbelievably warm, and the muscles twitch beneath his fingers. “I… you, Nora,” he whispers, mouth dry. “I want you.”

 _Tingting!_ comes from behind him. He doesn’t look to see what the sound is, focused instead on her face. Her eyes go wide, wider than he’s ever seen them. Even in the low light, shock’s written all over her. “What?” she breathes, shoulders starting to tremble in his hold. He tightens his grip, just a little, and speaks.

“Don’t… if you want to know when it started, I don’t have an answer,” he mutters, the words tripping over themselves. “But — spirits, Nora. You came back from the dead. You’re fighting, even when what’s inside you wants to give up. You’re strong, and ridiculous, and…” he swallows again. “And I like the idea of waking up next to you.”

Hands come up to cover her mouth. “Garrus…” He waits, barely breathing. “I — you — _no_ , Garrus!” she finally gasps, shoulders twisting out of his grip. Dismayed, and more than a little shocked himself, he turns to watch her as she stands, barely out of reach. “I’m… you deserve better than me, Garrus. You’re brave. You’re charismatic. Even with scars, you’re a handsome turian. And you’ll never, ever get me to think you’re a bad turian,” she whispers. She’s not far enough away for him not to see the way she’s shaking. “In what galaxy does an ex-gang member, permanently depressed, previously dead human _wreck_ deserve a turian white knight?”

He reaches for her, but she dodges his hands. “In the galaxy where we might die, where your ‘white knight’ got an entire team of good people killed…” he trails off, watching her. “In the galaxy where you saved me from being mediocre, and showed me what space could be. Please —”

“No! You — I can’t, Garrus, I’m sorry.” She backs away, stepping around the chairs. “I’ve dragged enough people down. I hurt Liara because she couldn’t be what I needed. I don’t want to do it to you, too.” By the time that, halting and stilted, falls from her mouth, she’s at the door. And she bolts.

Garrus stands for a minute, staring at the door. Then he slumps into a chair, head in his hands. “Good job. Made her run,” he grumbles at himself.

Samara comes in… he doesn’t know how long it is. But the lights tune themselves higher when she enters. “Shepard has departed, then?” she asks him. Rising, he nods and turns to leave. His gaze catches on two spoons, firmly embedded into the wall.

  
\- - -

  
Tali bursts into Shepard’s cabin, barely able to hold herself together. “Nora, Nora, you have to help me!” she cries, hurtling down the steps. She doesn’t register where the commander is until she stops. Nora’s sprawled over her bed, flat on her back. Her gaze doesn’t move from the skylight.

“What is it, Tali?” she asks. The words are almost monotone.

 _That’s not right,_ flickers across her brain. But it’s for no more than a nano-second. “A message from the fleet — I — the Admiralty Board has accused me of treason!” she yells. Her last words are almost a sob.

“ _ **What**_?” That brings Shepard to life. She bolts up, eyes wide, and stares at her. “Anyone who’s known you for like, twenty seconds, wouldn’t believe that! You’re the quarianest of quarians!”

She’s not sure whether it’s meant to be a laugh or a sob, truth be told. But a ragged sound, full of emotion, comes out of her. “They… they don’t lay charges like this unless the evidence seems absolute. Oh, Keelah…”

“Absolute? Sure, I can get on board with that,” Nora grumbles, scooting off her bed. “If by absolute you mean _absolutely bullshit._ C’mere, Tali.” She opens her arms. Despite herself, Tali goes to her. Shepard folds her into a hug and tugs her into her lap. Tali’s taller than Shepard. It’s awkward. But it’s comforting. “I know you, Tali. Maybe we haven’t spent a lot of our lives together, but I know you. And literally anyone who thinks you’d betray your fleet is full of it. The _only_ — and I do mean only way — I can see you betraying them is if you were indoctrinated.”

“But what if I am, Shepard?” she quibbles. “What if I’ve been the Reaper’s puppet this whole time? What if I’m feeding them information, and they’ll attack the galaxy while we’re in the Omega 4, because it knows we’re the only ones prepared? What if —” Her words turn into muffled garbage when Nora slaps her hand over her output port.

“You’re not. And as long as something doesn’t stop us, you can damn well bet I’m taking your purple ass to the Migrant Fleet and setting this straight,” she tells her, voice stern. Then she cranes her head up to the ceiling. “EDI, give me a link to Joker!”

Seconds later, Joker’s voice booms through the speakers. “You can thank me later, Nor,” he greets her.

“Joker! Divert course.” She looks at Tali. Tali holds up her omnitool and taps it. “Tali will send you the coordinates in a minute. We’ve got a fleet to meet.”

  
\- - -

  
Mordin taps his omnitool, humming, as he scurries along the crew deck and up to the forward battery. “Vakarian?” he calls through the door. A minute later, the door opens to the sight of a grumpy turian looking down at him. (Not far, though. Turians tall, but salarians almost as tall.) “Polish armor and prepare for ground team deployment. Armor polishing _important_!” With that, he marches off, leaving Garrus staring after him. He’s already passed along the message to Samara, who nodded serenely and didn’t divert her focus at all.

Scant hours later, he’s in his best armor, right behind Samara and Garrus at the airlock. Tali’zorah and Shepard stand in the cockpit, one of them behind each of Joker’s shoulders. “Tali’zorah vas Neema nar Rayya, requesting permission to deck with the Rayya,” Tali’zorah calls into the comm. “Our ship is flagged as Cerberus.”

“Verify,” comes a filtered voice, similar to the quarian he knows.

“After time adrift among open stars, along tides of light and through shoals of dust, I will return to where I began,” she recites. There’s music in the words. Mordin finds himself humming. “Our ship is not clean. We need a security and quarantine team to meet us.”

“Understood. Approach exterior docking cradle 17,” the traffic controller orders. Decompression takes little time. Entering the quarian ship, Mordin can’t resist taking notes on everything he sees.

  
\- - -

  
Nora shrugs to check the weight of her guns. The quarians ahead don’t seem hostile, but she doesn’t know these things are supposed to go yet. Captain Kar’danna introduces himself, and surprisingly, makes small talk. “Do you know what the charges against Tali are?” she asks.

The answer is unexpected. “Active _geth_? Aboard the Flotilla? I never —” Tali stops and takes a breath before starting again. “I never brought active geth aboard. I only sent parts and pieces. I checked everything. I was careful!”

“I believe you, Tali,” Nora murmurs, resting her hand on the quarian’s shoulder. “But I’m not the one you have to convince.” After that, the captain places them under a ship arrest and points them to the garden plaza. Nora lets Tali lead, but she follows, square shouldered and straight-spined. Behind her, she can hear Garrus, Samara, and Mordin doing the same thing. It’s meant to be intimdating. Hopefully it is. Quarian culture is more complicated than krogan culture, but a show of power can never go too far afield.

“Tali’zorah vas Normandy,” shocks Nora out of her assessment of the ship’s corridors. (Not very good for a firefight.) “I am glad you came so quickly. There was only so much delay the others were willing to tolerate."

“Auntie Raan!” Tali cries, stepping forward and wrapping the other woman in a hug. “Shepard vas Normandy, this is —”

“Wait. Tali’zorah vas Normandy? Not vas Neema?” Mordin comments. “Unusual. Quarians usually not given name of other vessels outside of the Fleet.”

“No, they’re not,” ‘Auntie Raan’ sighs. “The Admiralty Board moved to have you tried under that name, given your departure from the Neema.”

“Five credits says that’s a bad thing,” Garrus drawls. Nora almost shoots an angry glare over her shoulder. Then she remembers his all-too-recent words and keeps her eyes firmly forward.

Tali’s breath rattles. “I’m… that’s as good as declaring me exiled already,” she says. “And that means… oh, Keelah, Shepard. You’re my captain now. That means _you_ have to defend me.” She turns, her little eye-lights wide and bright.

Nora freezes. “…really?” Tali nods. “Of course,” she sighs. “Hopefully quarian law isn’t too different from Earth law. I’ll do my best.” ‘Raan’ fills her in succinctly. When she moves away, Nora can’t help grumbling. “Obviously not a lot of career criminals here… present the truth… ffft. Wish Earth could work that way.”

They move forward, Nora desperately trying to remember everything she’s ever learned about manipulating people.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus is surprised by the grass they step onto. It’s not the dark blue of Palaven, but instead a green. He didn’t expect it on a ship. Tali heaves a sigh and leads the way to a small stand in the middle of the room. Nora and Tali step up, their armor gleaming in the light. Without a signal, Garrus, Mordin, and Samara all spread out, guarding their back from the bottom of the steps.

“This Conclave is brought to order!” the quarian they just met calls. “Blessed are the ancestors who kept us alive.” She pauses. Every quarian in the crowd repeats the phrase. Even Tali murmurs it. “Blessed are the ancestors who sustained us. Blessed are the ancestors who enabled us to reach this season. Keelah se’lai.” After every phrase, the room repeats it. Hundreds of filtered voices echo off the walls in the blessing, eerie and reverent both. “The accused, Tali’zorah vas Normandy, has come. She brings Captain Shepard vas Normandy to defend her against the charge of treason.”

“Objection!” one of the other judges, standing a good bit higher than either Tali or Shepard, calls out. Even the sound of his voice makes Garrus grind his teeth. “A human has no business at a hearing involving sensitive military matters!”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that, ere you named Tali’zorah vas Normandy so,” Shepard calls, her voice strident among the filtered ones. “Either I stay, and defend Tali’zorah, or you break your own code and admit yourself faithless and accusers of the innocent.”

“She is right, Admiral Koris,” Raan murmurs. “Shepard must stay.” He inclines his head, and the other woman goes on. “Shepard vas Normandy, your crew member Tali’zorah stands accused of treason. Will you speak for her?”

Silence hangs in the air for a minute before Shepard plants her hands on her hips and speaks. “I will speak for Tali’zorah vas Normandy nar Neema nar Rayya. But as I speak, know this one thing is true. Tali’zorah will abide by whatever ruling you hand down. In doing that, does that not prove in and of itself these are false charges? Would a true traitor abide by the rules of the Fleet? Would a true traitor stand here before you at this moment? Tali’zorah might leave the Fleet, but the Fleet will never leave her heart.” She turns, pacing a step back and forth. “I do not regret that it is I who speaks. But I regret the mind that sought to leave Tali’zorah undefended, that named her vas Normandy and forbade the Neema to stand behind her as the Normandy does.”

“Forbade?!?” the annoying admiral spits. “Nobody has been _forbidden_ from anything! It is simple —”

The quarian to the right speaks, his voice less annoying than the first. His enviro-suit seems more weathered, too. “Lie if you will, Zaal’Koris, but do not lie to the fleet and expect us to remain silent! This human is right!”

Raan breaks it up before it goes any further. Then she turns back to the platform and calls, voice soft, “Tali’zorah, you are accused of bringing active geth to the Migrant Fleet. What say you?”

“Before I answer your question, I have one of my own,” Shepard calls, leaning on the railing. “How would Tali’zorah bring geth aboard the fleet while living and working from the Normandy? I feel I might have noticed a geth or two in my engine room.”

Raan chuckles, but answers. “To clarify, Shepard, she is not accused of bringing entire units onboard. Only of sending parts which could spontaneously reactivate.

Garrus turns his head as Tali speaks for the first time. “I would never send anything active to the Fleet! Everything I sent was disabled. I made sure they were harmless!”

Annoying Admiral speaks up against. “Then how is it geth seized the lab ship where your father works?” he sneers. Garrus can’t help the displeased thrum in his throat. All around him, quarians begin babbling, their noise echoing and turning into a panicked din of voices.

Tali tries to speak. Her voice gets drowned out in the noise. The weathered admiral leans over the railing and calls something to her. Even his voice is barely audible in the thunderous din. Tali staggers back, one hand to her mask. Garrus steps forward to catch her —

 _“ENOUGH!”_ Shepard booms, her voice drowning out all the noise for an instant. Everyone quiets. She nods and puts down her arm, dialing back something on her omni-tool. “I appreciate you feel this trial needs to happen now, Admirals. I do. But Tali’zorah’s father is on that ship. Countless other quarian lives are at stake, if they are not yet gone. And you see the need to insist on this farce while my crew and I stand here, able to take back the ship?” she snarls. “Your first concern should be the safety of the Fleet, not judging those guilty of nothing.”

With that, Shepard turns and beckons to him and the others. They step closer as Raan calls, “Quarian strike teams have attempted to retake the ship already. They met with no success.”

“Shepard —” Tali whimpers. She nods.

“With all due respect, admirals, none of your strike teams were like this,” the commander calls back, spreading her arms to indicate all four of them.

Again, the most annoying admiral speaks up. “The safest course would be simply destroying the ship. But if Tali’zorah seeks honorable death instead of exile…”

“I’m _seeking_  my father, you bosh’tet!” Tali snaps. Garrus grins and reaches out to help her down from the platform.

“If you die on this mission, Tali’zorah, we will see your name cleared of these charges,” the older admiral adds. Something in his voice sounds like a laugh. The annoying one mumbles something.

Raan nods. “It is decided. You will attempt to retake the Alarei.”

Shepard sniffs haughtily. “A quote from long ago lives on among my people. ‘Do, or do not. There is no try.’” With that, she nods to Tali, who leads the way to an exit from the courtroom.

  
\- - -

  
Tali jitters the entire time they linger outside the docking port. All of the admirals come to see them, snapping harsh words or commenting. Admiral Xen offers some information about the Alarei, but not much. They’re preparing to board the shuttle when she hears, “Tali?”

“Kal’Reegar?” she breathes, turning around. It’s him, in his resplendent red. “Oh, it _is_ you!” She hurls herself at him in a hug. His arms wrap around her, wonderfully, for a second. Then she remembers herself and jumps away. “It’s, ah, it’s good to see you!” Shepard and Garrus both chuckle, quiet enough that she can only hear it over her comms. She doesn’t have to turn around to see their smug looks. “Were our readings useful?” she says, in an attempt to change the subject.

He fills her in on that. Then Shepard butts in. “Why are you still on the Rayya? It sounds like the Admirals have already processed your report.”

Reegar’s eyes shift. “I, ah, stayed to argue the charges against Tali. You and I have both served with her. She deserves better than she’s getting.”

“Thanks, Kal,” she mumbles, dropping her gaze.

Footsteps approach as Kal murmurs, “Just stating facts… ma’am.” She doesn’t look up until Veetor greets her.

Then, too soon, _too soon,_ they’re on the Alarei. Emergency lights are all that remain on for the most part. Dim and red, they remind her of the human tinge of blood. “They couldn’t have left the lights on?” Shepard mumbles, opening her omnitool and turning on her helmet’s night vision.

“I can see fine,” Garrus, Mordin, and Samara all chorus together.

“Geth don’t need lights, Shepard,” Tali mumbles, brushing past the three people staring each other down and moving on. A door blocks her, but literally seconds of a hack get her through. The first thing she sees is lights, moving past each other at head level — “GETH!” she shrieks, diving for cover. The boom of a shockwave follows close on her heels, and only seconds pass before she hears the tell tale fizz of Mordin’s cryo-shock and the pop of Garrus’s rifle. Popping out of cover, she eyes the closest geth and aims in its direction, frantically keying in the code to overload its circuits. The flicker of shields dims, and Samara’s navy blue biotics slam it into the nearest wall. Tali ducks back down and sends out Chatikka.

For all the fuss aboard the Rayya, she had harder battles before she ever saw Virmire. Geth bodies litter the floor in short order, slumped over each other and stacked like circuitboards. Each of them pick their way through the bodies. Tali blows the head off every geth in her path, just in case. “Residential area, hm. Not made for firefights,” Mordin chatters. “Fun to fight through, but simultaneously annoying. Easy to clip important lifelines, such as water.”

“Our food all comes packaged, Mordin,” Tali tells him dryly. “I don’t think that’s a worry.”

“Good to know.” He taps his chin as they move ahead. “Always packaged? Even on live ships? Was unaware of such paranoia. Danger of traitors or malcontent quarians within fleet high?”

She blinks at him. “Not particularly. It’s just… caution.”

“Human saying time?” Shepard asks, sidling up to her. “An ounce of prevention’s worth a pound of cure.”

Neither ‘ounce’ nor ‘pound’ come through her translator right. It defines them as a small unit and a larger unit, but nothing else. “…yes, I suppose.” More geth come around the corner. Shepard grins, the flash of teeth visible through her helmet, and proceeds to throw one like a ball. Ahead, they come across a terminal with video logs. Only a few scraps are recoverable, and they make little sense. “Why would my father think normal security protocols would take too long?” she wonders as they move on.

Something’s _surely_ gotten into Shepard. She says, voice dropping into an odd cadence, “He’s late! He’s late! He’s late for a very important date!” Tali eyes her.

 _Maybe she’s finally lost her mind,_ she wonders. But the next door they come to holds one of the pieces she sent her father. Beyond that, down a hall, she finds more scraps of logs. “Tali’zorah. Must inform you, prognosis not good. All evidence points to a single conclusion. Distasteful conclusion, but nonetheless, a conclusion,” Mordin warns her. She nods and moves on, scouting ahead despite her trembling hands.

More geth. When those fall, they pause for a minute at the flight of stairs. There’s another video log there. Even in scraps, it makes Tali’s knees tremble. “No…” she whispers. But they must move on.

Shepard goes first, and Tali second. Samara falls into step with her and speaks, her soft voice somber. “Whatever we discover further on, Tali, know you are your own person,” she says. “You are your father and mother’s daughter, but their actions are independent of you, no matter what they were. Their mistakes are not yours to atone for.”

She appreciates the thought, but the very idea her father could have done this… “Really? Is that why you spent centuries hunting down your daughter?” she bites out. Samara looks down at her.

“No. I spent centuries hunting her because she hurt others. Handing someone a gun does not guarantee it will be fired, but would you ignore someone who used that gun and murdered others for enjoyment?” she asks. Tali doesn’t get to answer — a shot clips Samara instead. The justicar whirls, biotic energy rippling out from her as she slams two geth together. “Go, Tali’zorah! I’ll put them where you need them!”

Tali dives into cover, only to look up and discover a geth hunter staring down at her. She pumps her shotgun and fires straight into its face, sending it staggering. Then she opens her omnitool, fingers dancing, and hacks it. Seconds later, the hunter turns on the other geth. When the others fall, it stands there, awaiting new orders. She fires straight into its heart this time, and it’s followed by the familiar pop of Garrus’s Mantis.

At least here, there are more lights. It reminds her less of a morgue that way.

  
\- - -

  
Painful missions Samara is used to. But Tali clearly is not. Every scrap of data recovered makes the young quarian droop a little more. A console ahead, flickering with the telltale light of data corruption, makes Samara hurt for Tali. “Experiments on geth systems… looking for new ways to overcome the geth resistance to reprogramming. That’s good, we need everything we can get on the geth after what Saren and Sovereign did.”

“These tests… did your father tell you about them?” Garrus murmurs, stepping up to Tali’s side.

“No, Father just told me to send him any geth technology that wouldn’t endanger the fleet. I… _suspected_ … he might be testing weapons, but the most likely thing was just finding new ways to bypass shields or armor,” she explains.

“Data present, possible to use to clear Tali’s name?” Mordin asks, poking the console. It sparks at him, but he keeps tapping at it.

“No. It’s all results data. But…” she hesitates. Her head drops. “They may… they may have been activating the geth deliberately. I don’t know, it’s not specific. But if they were…” She chokes on the words. “Then Father was doing something _terrible_.” She takes a breath. It shudders as she lets it out. “What was all this, Father? You promised me you’d build us a house on the homeworld! Is this going to take us back home?”

“Maybe it’s time for the quarians to let go of taking Rannoch back,” Garrus offers, resting one hand on Tali’s shoulder. She turns on him, batting his arm away and snarling.

“Give _up_? My home is one hull breach away from taking the quarians into extinction! You have a planet to go back to! If I don’t wear a helmet in my own home, I die!” Her gaze flickers over Garrus, and then to Shepard, lingering for a second as she speaks. “A single kiss could put me in the hospital! Every time you take a breath without air filters, you’re doing something I can’t.” Tali’s shoulders drop again. She whispers something, too low for Samara to hear.

“There are many worlds in the galaxy, Tali,” Samara says. “Planets with dextro-amino structures are plentiful, and the turians cannot use them all. I know you would have trouble acclimating to even the environment of Rannoch, and even more that of another world, but it would give you a home you could not puncture.” She wants to reach out to the young one, but Garrus stands close by her, and Shepard even closer.

“Oh yes! That’ll work!” she snaps. “Never mind that I will _never_ be able to take off my mask and see a sunset before I die, or that my grandchildren won’t be able to. It’s a _solution_!” She lets out another shuddering breath. “We… we can discuss this later. The Alarei, at least, we can take back.” With that, she storms away. Seconds later, Samara hears the telltale clicking of geth. Shepard’s already at Tali’s side, tugging the quarian down.

“Grenade! Fire in the hole!” the commander yells. An explosion below proves her words. But there are more geth, coming up the stairs and crawling up the walls. Shepard nods at Samara and grins, the vicious expression visible through her helmet. Samara cocks her head, but waits. A singularity bubbles into existence at the top of the stairs. It catches more than one geth, sending them floating about. Two more stumble, but shake it off. So Samara lobs a handful of energy at them. Under normal circumstances, it would simply hurl them away. Combined with the singularity, it sends geth pieces flying.

More geth come through the door below. The steady thunk of the sniper rifle assures Samara they will not make it as far as the others. Together with Shepard and Tali, they empty the immediate vicinity. Mordin’s… in a corner, firing self-incineration commands at whoever comes close enough to the railing. When the last geth falls, Garrus sighs, “Grunt would have loved this. Endless enemies.”

“Ah, but no blood. Blood important to krogan enjoyment of battle. Have even seen some krogan bathe in it,” Mordin comments from where he’s elbow-deep in geth parts. Tali snorts as she and Shepard go downstairs, guns ready. Tali goes left, Shepard goes right, and Samara follows them.

She’s watching Tali poke through the contents of an unguarded computer when, “Uh, Tali? You… you should come here,” comes from Shepard.

  
\- - -

 

Nora’s not sure who the quarian on the floor is, but chances are Tali knew him. And then she sprints past, “Father!” falling from her lips in anguish. She hits the floor hard, babbling, as she frantically checks life-signs. “No, no, _no_! You always had a plan! Masked life signs, or, or an onboard medical stasis program, maybe! You… you wouldn’t… they’re wrong… you wouldn’t leave me to clean up your mess… you wouldn’t…”

Thunk. Nora hits her knees, too. “Tali. Tali, look at me,” she whispers. The babbling slows, but doesn’t stop, as Tali turns and buries her face in Shepard’s shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“Damn it… damn it…” she sniffles. “Sorry…” Just then, a shadow falls over them. Nora glances up to find Samara blocking the door.

“Don’t apologize, you ninny,” Nora murmurs into the helmet. “He’s your father. I cried over my cat dying on Earth, and it was just an animal. Cry as much as you like.” Tali’s arms tighten around her before going loose.

“He had to know I’d come. Maybe… maybe he left a message.” Seconds later, the dead quarian’s omnitool lights up. Nora stands and turns away, to let Tali have even these last few words from her father. Samara tilts her head when the transmission ends. Shepard nods, so the justicar strides forward to let the others through.

And then she places a hand on Tali’s shoulder. “Your father knew you would not abandon him, Tali’zorah. He gave what aid he could. None of this is as you wished it, but it is as it is, and he gave you the best he could. That is all a parent can do.”

Garrus hovers, just behind Nora’s shoulder. He’s close enough for her to hear his breath. But over that, she hears Tali’s murmured reply. “I don’t know what’s worse: thinking he never cared, or that he did, and this was the only way he could show it.” She takes a deep breath. “But it doesn’t matter now. One way or the other, I cared. And I’m here.”

“Let us end this,” the justicar murmurs, gesturing to the path ahead. Tali nods. Samara takes point this time, leading the way up the stairs. When the doors open, Nora’s just behind the asari. She’s second to see the geth in the room.

“Crikey, that’s a big one,” she mutters. Then she realizes nobody here is human. Even if they were, they’d have to be well-versed in Earth historical culture to know what she’s talking about. “Let’s fry this glorified toaster oven!” she amends. The pump of Tali’s shotgun accompanies the words.

On the list of memorable fights, this one isn’t very high. Or at least it isn’t for a little while. Then Nora, focused on holding a biotic barrier over Mordin’s position while his shields regenerate, accidentally tunnel visions. One of the geth sneaks up on her. “Nora —” Tali bellows.

Too late. Nora stumbles from the gun’s impact. While she’s offguard, the geth shoots again. She loses her balance and slams into a crate, face first. It’s very ignominious, and she won’t be telling stories. Especially since she now has a bloody nose from it. “Fug me,” she groans into her comm.

“Not my type, Shepard. Appreciate the offer,” Mordin replies. Garrus and Tali both snort. Even Samara chuckles.

“Hade you all,” she mutters, pulling herself to her feet in time to hurl a shockwave at an incoming trooper. “I hab whad could be a brogen nose, and you’re poging fun.” She finishes off her geth. Seconds later, the ‘big one’ hits the ground. “Mordin, is dere probber atmo in here?”

“Yes. Quite breathable, if a little thin. Geth probably occupied trying to unlock weapons systems, did not yet bother venting air.” She doesn’t wait for anything more before yanking her helmet off.

“Please idnore me if I sdream in pain,” she announces before grabbing her nose and yanking. Indeed, a vibrant _crack_! tells her it was broken.

“Ouch,” Tali comments. But she does little more, heading straight for the consoles on the far side of the room. Nora follows, wiping the blood from her lip with the back of her gauntlet. “This console links to the hub Father mentioned. I’ve disabled it, so any geth we missed are shut down,” Tali announces. She takes a deep breath. “Some of these recordings… they’re intact. They’ll tell us what happened.” She looks away. “…what Father did.”

“Tali…” Nora murmurs, sliding up right next to the quarian and bumping her arm. “I’m pretty sure I can hit a play button. You don’t have to watch this. There’s plenty of crates you can sit on that are out of earshot.”

“No, I have to, Shepard. I don’t… I don’t really want to know he was part of this. But I have to.” With that, she brings the logs to life. When the video halts, she stares at the screen. Nora doesn’t know what to say.

 _What words are there for this?_ she wonders.

And then Tali slams her fists into the console’s keyboard. “Damn it, Father, I never wanted this! Keelah, never this!” She turns away and buries her head in her hands. “Everything… it’s all his fault! I tried to think it didn’t point to him, but if this comes up… if this comes up in the trial…”

Nora inhales. “Tali, are you willing to risk exile over this? I’ll do my best to make sure this doesn’t come to light, but between this and exile, are you sure?”

“I can’t go back into that room and tell the Fleet my father was the worst war criminal in the quarian’s history. I _can’t_.” Tali looks at her, little lights huge behind her mask, and she can’t say anything to them.

“As long as you’re sure, Tali.” She jerks her head toward the door. “The only thing we’re doing here is wasting time. Let’s go talk to the admirals.”

\- - -

  
Kal’Reegar, the marine, waits for them when they exit the shuttle. “They’ve already reconvened the trial!” he hisses. “Go, go!” Shepard and Tali break into runs. The rest of them follow, though slightly slower. As they approach the courtyard, the annoying admiral’s voice echoes down the halls.

“…no word. There is no reason to think Tali’zorah yet lives.”

Raan’s voice comes next. “We need to trust Shepard’s offer of assistance! It has only been two hours!”

“Our marines lasted less than five minutes, Raan. Call it,” the older admiral’s voice echoes, grief tinging it.

“A pity Shepard vas Normandy is a better speaker than soldier,” the annoying one adds. Garrus lets himself bristle at that. “I recommend posthumously exiling Tali’zorah.”

Shepard’s voice, full and angry, cuts in. “A pity Admiral Zaal’Koris cannot keep himself from postulating on the abilities of others. I recommend you wait until Tali’zorah is indeed dead before calling anything posthumous. Did you think mere geth would stop us?” she spits, her short human legs eating up the courtyard.

“Sorry we’re late,” Tali calls, amusement in her voice as she takes the platform. Garrus chuckles as the three of them spread out, eyes on Shepard and Tali up ahead.

“The Alarei is clear of geth, thanks to Tali’zorah vas Normandy,” Shepard says. “I hope this proves her loyalty to the quarian people.”

Zaal’Koris sniffs. “Her loyalty was never in doubt. Only her judgement.”

“Then why is she being tried for treason? Traitor is a name reserved for the disloyal. If you wanted to try her for an error of judgement, there are better names for that.” Shepard leans back and crosses her arms.

Raan nods. “Perhaps Tali’zorah can offer something to encourage more trust in her judgement. Did you find anything on the Alarei…?” she trails off.

Shepard steps forward. Garrus sees Tali reach for her, but she dodges the hand. “Why do you need proof of her judgement? Did Tali’zorah not defeat Saren’s geth at the Citadel? Did she not go to Haestrom, fully expecting not to return, and kill scores of geth there? There is your _evidence_ of her character for this farcical trial. Tali’zorah is not on trial for treason. You are trying her for an error in judgement. One she never made.”

Shepard pauses. Zaal’Koris butts in. “This is irrelevant!”

“Is it? Or are you, Admiral? If the geth pieces she sent to the fleet were so dangerous, why did they never take over the Normandy?” Shepard shouts, spreading her arms. “The Normandy has a Thanix cannon, state-of-the-art shielding, a shuttle bay large enough to hold weapons and geth platforms beyond measure. Why would they have lain in wait to take over the Alarei when they could have had the Normandy instead? This trial is not about Tali’zorah, it is about the geth, and what place each of you want them to play in your future!”

“This hearing has nothing to do with the geth!” the annoying one spits, all but frothing at the mouth.

“False!” Shepard wheezes after she bellows. Then Garrus hears her mutter, “Fuck this helmet, I can’t see through the blood inside, anyway.” She tugs it off and turns, whipping it at him. He catches it in one hand as she turns back to the admirals. “Zaal’Koris, you want quarians to sympathize with the geth! Han’Gerrel wants to go to war! Daro’Xen wants to use the geth for what they once were! If any of you cared about Tali, you’d be listening to her, not putting her on trial! _Tali_ is the reason I’m a Spectre! _Tali_ is the one who recovered the sound file that marked Saren a traitor! _Tali’zorah vas Normandy is the reason you are still alive!”_

Xen starts to speak, but Shepard mows over her. “She saved the Alarei, just like she saved the Citadel, just like she saved the entire damn galaxy. She showed the galaxy what quarians can do. And you stand here, judging her for what’s she done, when she’s done more in three years than most of you have done in your entire lifetime! If you want evidence of who Tali is, if you want proof she wouldn’t endanger the Fleet, then here it stands.” Her arm shoots out, pointing straight to Tali.

Nobody says anything until Raan clears her throat and murmurs, very delicately, “Are the admirals prepared to render judgement?” Omnitools come up. Garrus holds his breath. A lifetime later, she calls out, “Tali’zorah vas Normandy, in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges.” Tali’s entire body slumps in relief. Shepard’s shoulders sag. Garrus breathes. “Commander, please accept these gifts in appreciation of —”

“If you appreciate me, then listen. There are creatures worse than the geth. They are called Reapers. Only one turned Saren against his own. One turned legions of geth to its cause. It can mold any human, any quarian, _anyone_ into whatever it wants them to be. And you will think they are right and just, that you should follow them, and be glad for it. The Reapers are coming for this galaxy and all its civilizations, just as they came for the Protheans.” Shepard turns, looking every quarian as square in the eyes as possible. “Prepare yourselves. Whether or not you believe me, this fight will come. And the quarians will not be able to avoid it. The geth are not worth your lives.”

More stunned silence. “Thank you, Commander. I hope this board… _carefully_ … considers your advice,” Zaal’Koris sniffs. It’s clearly a dismissal. Shepard snorts, stepping back from the railing. Raan actually dismisses them. And as Tali and Shepard turn to step off the platform, not one, but _both_ of them discreetly raise a middle finger in the admiral’s direction.

Garrus wonders, _When did she pick that up?_ instead of _Where did that come from?_ Jack’s taken to hanging out in engineering and pestering Tali lately.

As soon as the majority of the quarians are out of sight, Tali squeals and latches onto Nora’s neck. “I can’t believe you did that!” Nora laughs, wrapping her arms around Tali and squeezing tight. “What you said — I’ve never had anyone speak like that on my behalf before!”

“Well, get used to it, Tali’zorah vas Normandy,” Nora answers, grinning as she hugs Tali tighter. She glances over at them. For a second, her gaze catches on his. Then she blinks and averts it. “I mean, if you want, I’m pretty sure we can still go back and get you a nice shiny exile.”

Tali laughs again, the sound unbelievably gleeful. “Thanks, but I’m fine. It’s fun watching you shout at someone other than me.”

“I never shout at you!” Nora protests, offended. “When have I ever?”

“Do you want the list? Or will you settle for the recap?” The two banter all the way back to the Normandy’s docking area. Garrus watches, his heart tight at the smile on Nora’s face.

  
\- - -

  
When she’s back on the Normandy, Nora allows herself one very, very small and gleeful allowance.

She opens a message dialogue and writes a message.

_Kaidan,_

_You always told me to stop orating after every available opportunity. My oration skills just saved Tali from being exiled from the Migrant Fleet. SO THERE._

_N. Shepard_

And then, like the grown, mature adult she is, she uses her finger to draw a very large smiley-face, complete with its tongue sticking out, beneath the words.

_Ding! Message sent!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave the krogan some dwarven vibes. I really like the idea of them having great, epic chants handed down from generation to generation.
> 
> Let me know how the Confession Thing feels. I have the romantic ability of a cat: headbutt it and purr. 
> 
> Yoda got quoted. In a hundred years, some of the contemporary movie wisdom is going to be crystallized, so I have no doubt that one will make it. Nora's using humor to deflect and distract. 
> 
> Hid a couple things in here, too. If you spotted them, you'll know. 
> 
> Also I'm very sure setting your own nose is bad, but Nora's hardly healthy.


	16. He Waits, Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is... oh, what a mess indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers Shadow Broker and Jack's loyalty mission.

_Increase the dosage you’re administering. No reports about Shepard’s power increasing have come to me._

_Of course, sir. Should I investigate the possibility of the drug’s failure?_

_No. I’ll take care of that. Keep an eye on Shepard and tell me if anything changes._

_As always, sir. There may be further erratic behavior with the dosage increasing, though._

_I don’t give a damn._

  
\- - -

  
When Nora wakes up, the Normandy halfway to the Nubian Expanse, Ashley’s poking the box of art supplies on her desk. “So did you ever figure out how much Liara paid for this? I mean, I can barely afford a bottle of genuine Jack Daniel’s from Earth, let alone all this.”

Nora pulls herself to her elbows, grumbling. “No. S’a gift. I took it ‘n didn’t ask questions. Why?”

Ashley shrugs and steps away from the desk. “Curiosity.” She meanders down the steps and flops onto the base of the bed. Despite the fact she’s in her fatigues, something crunches when she hits the blankets. “What the…”

Then Nora remembers. “Oh!” she squawks, diving for the comforters. Ashley rolls over, bemused, and watches her scrabble. A minute later, Shepard holds up a handful of protein bar wrappers. “I didn’t feel like going to the mess last night,” she admits sheepishly.

Eyebrows high, Ashley asks, “Really? Every time I’ve seen you lately, you’ve scarfed down about five plates easy. You really didn’t want to go eat? At all?”

Nora tilts her nose up in faux hauteur. “I eat because I am compelled to do so, thank you!” she sniffs. Then she drops her nose and mumbles, “Being a biotic makes me eat like a horse at the best of times. It’s just gotten worse since… y’know.” She wiggles her fingers at the armor in the corner. It rises, dances an awkward loop in the air, and falls back down.

“Since your dancing skills got worse?” Ashley cracks. Nora snorts.  
  
“Yeah, sure.” She crushes the wrappers together, into a ball of fairly decent size, and carefully floats it to the trashcan. “Ash?” The other woman blinks at her. “Do you… wanna go see your family before we go through the Omega-4?”

Brown eyes dart away. “Yes… no… I dunno. I mean, they know I’m alive. Ish. I’ve been sending them vidmails again. Let me tell you, they died over Samara and Morinth’s story. But maybe it’ll be easier for them… what if I don’t come back? Maybe it’ll be easier that way.” She sighs, rolls to the left, and sprawls over the bottom of the bed. “I’m tired, Nor.”

“Welcome to the club, Ash,” she says. Ashley’s hair falls, brushing her shoulders. “I’ve been tired since I was ten. It doesn’t get easier.” They sit in silence, Nora gently finger-combing the other woman’s hair.

“This is weird.”

“Yeah, but it’s not bad. Right?”

  
\- - -

  
Space seems empty right now. Or maybe it’s her. Either way, Jack likes sitting in the cockpit and watching out the windows. Not all the time. Joker’s not a fan of her, and she’s not a fan of him. Much. Cailin’s easier to get along with. And watching Nastaran come by, dropping off food or jackets or kisses, makes her hopeful. Both women are odd, but they fit together.

Sprawled in Joker’s seat, legs propped on the consoles, she finally asks, “So why are you Cerberus? You and smooches, you’re always doing nice shit for the people on board, and you don’t leave the aliens out. Shit, you got Tali some dextro chocolate on Ilium. The good stuff, not the cheap kind.”

Cailin doesn’t answer for a minute. “It’s… well. I know what the galaxy sees in Cerberus. But they’ve never gotten to see the good side of them.”

Jack’s jaw drops. “They have a good side?” She flicks her fingers at the bottle of juice beside Cailin’s seat. It rises into the air and violently explodes inside Jack’s biotic bubble. “Did you hear about the shit that ‘rogue’ cell did to me?”

Another minute of silence. Then Cailin’s fingers dance over the boards. “I’m not saying they didn’t do that. But they’re doing some good things, too. Earth… even Shepard’ll tell you. A lot of kids keep falling through cracks. Cerberus runs orphanages. They’ve built schools. Good schools. It’s all under fronts. Nobody’d send their wee bits to a school run by a terrorist organization. But half the kids that’re on the Citadel now? They’re there because Cerberus taught ‘em to fly and dream. Governments aren’t doing what they should.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t knock over the bad shit they did. You spray medigel on a broke fucking leg, it’s still broke, it just hurts less.” Jack snorts. “Seriously. Bet half those kids got sent to my ‘cell’ on Pragia.”

“I’m not saying it does. But there’s silver sides to every cloud. And Cerberus is a three headed dog, aye? One head’s the devil’s head. Another head’s a head of mercy, maybe.” Cailin shrugs. “I don’t know what the last head is. But Nasta, she’s ten years older’n I. If I’d never joined Cerberus, I wouldn’t have met her.” The woman’s dark hazel eyes fog. “Oh, what a dreary life that’d be!”

“Drear? You? Never,” Nastaran snipes, coming up behind her, bottle in hand. “Figured you’d be about — shit, what happened here?” The remains of the juice bottle sit just behind the pilot’s chair, turning sticky as it dries.

“Got carried away.” Jack settles back into her seat then and wonders, _Is there anything in Cerberus worth saving?_ It’s a thought she’s never entertained.

  
\- - -

  
Tali taps on Nora’s cabin door. Unexpectedly, it opens and admits her without any more fuss. “Nora?” she calls, stepping inside. “I — oh.” Ashley and Nora are propped up against each other’s shoulders on the bed. A datapad’s open on Nora’s knees, with Ashley pointing here and there as she makes changes. The cabin looks different than she last saw it, too. Notes cover every flat surface, and even on some of the curved ones, little holographic notes hover. “…I didn’t realize you ran out of datapads.”

“I think best with lots of space,” Nora answers, glancing up at her. “We’re having a self-pity pile and planning the war against the Reapers. Room on the bed for one more, too.” She draws her legs up and pats the bed. “You were just put on trial for a bunch of dumbassery. C’mon.”

She goes. Nora’s legs make a wonderful chair, warm even through the suit, and Ashley flops one calf into Tali’s lap. “Have you heard of the strange and arcane human art known as the footrub?” she asks, wiggling her toes vigorously. “It’s great.”

An omnitool search later, she goes to work. Over her shoulder, Nora tosses her questions about the weapons capabilities of the fleet, the amount of weapons engineers on board, and the possibilities of collaboration with others. Warm, and useful, and not alone — it’s all Tali’s ever wanted.

  
\- - -

  
Brittle bones means no exuberant bursting. But Joker joyfully hobbles into the main battery and demands, “Well? Did you get it on yet?” Garrus doesn’t answer. He sits on the crates by the door, head in his hands. “Well?”

“Didn’t appreciate the vid, but the rest was good,” he mumbles. Then his shoulders buckle in. “Nothing came of any of it. She… no.”

“No what?” Joker asks. Slowly, he crouches and looks up into the turian’s face. “Answer?”

“No to… anything.” Garrus sighs, deep and heavy. “I don’t know what I was proposing. But she said no. Either way.” For the first time, Joker can read the alien’s face clearly. Sadness sits on his features, etched into every line.

They sit there in silence for a minute. Words slow, Joker asks, “What did you say? What did she say? What did you mean?” After a few seconds more crouching, he wobbles to his feet. “Okay, big guy, share the crate. I’m easily broken.”

Small words, tired and forlorn, spill from Garrus. Slowly, the shape of how things happened comes to light. Part of Joker makes a note to check video logs later. “I don’t know what I expected,” he mumbles at the end of it all. “I just…”

After he says nothing, Joker nudges him. “You just what?” he asks, the words soft.

Garrus tilts his head away and leans on one hand, his words barely audible. “I just… wanted.”

Again, no elaboration comes until he prods the other man. “Wanted…?”

“What does anyone ever want?” Garrus sighs. “I don’t know what I wanted. An opportunity. Maybe it would fade after a night together. Maybe I’d laugh at her doing strange human things when she gets wrinkled.”

“Did you tell her that?” he wonders out loud. Garrus finally looks him in the eye and flares his mandibles out. “What? Nora’s… god, she’s smart as hell, but she’s the dumbest person I know, too. I don’t know what the deal was with her and Liara, but it fell through. It probably fucked her up. Ask her why she said no, at least.”

  
\- - -

  
Thunderous booms from below startle Zaeed. He almost crushes the tweezers in his hand. When he realizes it’s coming from the shuttle bay, he whips his glasses off and storms over to his window overlooking said bay. Ashley, Jack, Jacob, Nora, and Kasumi dance in and out of his line of sight below. Kasumi whirls into a shadow and appears on the other side of the room, behind Jacob. A slap puts a black dot on his uniform. Then she disappears again.

Jacob’s too occupied chasing Ashley to notice. The woman flees him, vaulting off a crate and backflipping neatly over his head. He spins, catching one of her feet as she lands. The landing goes from a stick to a stumble. He fires something Zaeed recognizes as a fake gun. A blue dot blooms over Ashley’s bare right arm.

“Ah!” Kasumi’s voice draws his attention across the bay. Jack’s disappeared, but Nora’s visible, perched on a crate above the heads of the others. Jack appears, flinging orbs of biotic energy after a wildly cartwheeling Kasumi. And then, without warning, both freeze. On her crate, Nora raises another fake gun and fires twice, great splotches of dark brown appearing on both Kasumi and Jack.

“Don’t get too cocky up there!” Ashley bellows, hurdling a crate to get away from Jacob. As if in concert, he uses his biotics to vault onto a nearby crate. Both of them climb towards Nora. She grins and spins, jumping to the bay floor and landing with only a gentle thump. The instant she touches down, Kasumi appears, slapping Shepard multiple times. One - two - three black dots. Kasumi disappears. Jack comes roaring around the corner, lobbing another orb of biotic energy in Nora’s direction.

Nora bats it back, only to find herself with a red palm. And then Ashley lands in front of her. This time, she’s the one cartwheeling away, body flickering as she pulls up a thin biotic barrier. _Pow_! Another blue dot appears on Ashley, and one on Jack, while they’re focused on Nora. (Jacob still doesn’t notice the black dots randomly appearing.)

“Jesus! A fuckin’ spar like this, and the shits didn’t invite me?” Zaeed grumbles, turning and staring down the gun on his desk. He was mid-install of a mod to carry extended thermal clips, but what’s going on looks like fun. And for the first time in years, Vido’s not in the back of his mind to ruin it.

  
\- - -

  
When Jack enters the shuttle bay, ready to take down the place that made and broke her, she expects one Cerberus lackey. But Cailin’s… less Cerberus than just human. Miranda’s a whole different story. And there Miranda stands in her dark ‘stealthy’ armor, quietly discussing something with Garrus. Jack stands there, agape, until the elevator clicks open behind her. She whirls to find Nora just behind her, helmet under her arm. “The _fuck_ is she doing here?” Jack snarls, snapping her hand out toward Miranda. “This is supposed to be catharsis, not another course of ‘let’s fucking traumatize Subject Zero some more’!”

Nora stares her down, dark eyes steady. “You want her to know what Cerberus is? Let her see,” she answers, quiet and calm. “Let her see what her beloved benefactor does. Whether or not the Illusive Man was behind it doesn’t matter. She needs to see.”

Jack vibrates with anger. “And let her pick apart the pieces of my shitty childhood? Let her see just how much fucking nightmare fuel I have?”

“Yes.” Nora reaches out and offers her palm to Jack. It’s a gesture Samara taught them — something about how asari often share biotic energy. Hesitant, Jack takes it. Shepard’s biotics, nowhere near as strong as her own, but infinitely calmer, ripple through her. “Let them be her nightmares instead.”

God, does that sound good. Jack lingers on the thought a minute. _Let Miranda dream about being locked behind glass, screaming and screaming, and never being heard. Let her know what it’s like to be so alone you’d die for a kind word._ “Fine, but that doesn’t mean I’m playing nice with the damn cheerleader,” she mutters.

“You don’t have to,” Nora assures her as the elevator whooshes again and disgorges Ashley, armored for battle. Jack lets go of Nora’s hand. “Ready?”

“Am I fucking ever,” Jack replies. The three women walk across the bay, almost in sync.

“Good, you’re here, Shepard. I…” Miranda starts. Then she eyes Jack. “I’ll speak to you later about it.”

“Alright, Miranda,” Nora answers. It’s a calmer answer than she would have gotten from Jack. “We should go.”

One after the other, they all load into the shuttle. Garrus, clad in his civvies, watches them. Jack’s never gotten along with turians, but his eyes almost seem sad as he watches them go. “No dinosaur sniper today?” she asks, stretching out once the door’s closed and the shuttle’s humming.

“He has other things to focus on,” Nora replies curtly.

“Damn. He always saves me a couple good fuckers to punch in the face,” Jack grumbles. “Oh well.” As they approach the facility, Jack regales them with what she remembers about the place. For a minute, she almost loses her nerve. But she takes a breath and closes her eyes, focusing inward. Rather than the calm waves of Samara or Nora’s biotics, she’s found hers to be more like a windstorm. So she pushes her thoughts into a breeze.

Landing hurts. She remembers taking off from this launchpad, in a stolen shuttle she barely knew how to operate. But she made it. “Okay,” Ashley mumbles as they enter the building proper. “Dark building where experiments took place? Heebie-jeebie meter jeebied.”

“Was that English?” Miranda snorts. She clicks on the light for her omnitool and scans the room. “If structure in this base is anything like the ones I’ve worked, then I should be able to…” She jogs across the room, to a particularly shadowed corner. A few seconds later, dim emergency lighting flickers on. Giant crates bookend the room, all in different sizes.

“Never saw this room,” she says, approaching one of the crates and running her fingers over it. “Probably brought new kids in in these.” Her fingers encounter something crusty. Confused, she rubs it and pulls her fingers away to find brown flakes falling. …she’s not surprised, but she still takes a step back, and her stomach churns. “They were messed up, mostly starving, but alive. Usually.”

The console Miranda’s fiddling with spits out a few words. “…requested operation logs… suspicious… results… won’t care.”

“Everything else is fragmented,” the cheerleader sighs, turning away from the console. “But the evidence points to this cell going rogue.”

“Rogue? Like —” Jack bites her tongue when Nora flashes her a dark look. “Like all the other fucked up ones? Funny, isn’t it, how only the ones that don’t get results go rogue? You’d like to think that, huh?”

  
\- - -

  
In the next room, Jack stops and peers up at the ceiling. Ashley watches her, but remains alert. Something here seems _off_. So she focuses on the edges of her enhanced hearing and pays attention to everything. In the distance, she hears growling. It sounds like nothing more than varren, though, so she relaxes.

At least, she relaxes until they come to blood-stained tile and a makeshift arena, where Jack regales them with the tales of her life. “There was this one time… this kid looked smarmy, you know? One of those kids who adds mayonnaise to everything. He kept grinning at me during all the other fights. He stopped grinning when it was his turn.”

Miranda bites her lip. Ashley can smell the blood (which is infinitely creepier in practice than theory). Then they move on. Miranda finds another console, one she pokes at and even opens up. A patchy hologram flickers into view. “Zemkl… subjects are out… tearing the place…” It repeats twice. She fiddles with the circuits. Then she raises one dainty foot and kicks it. _Hard_. The hologram resolves itself and repeats, but this time there’s more. “Subject Zero is going to get loose. I need permission to terminate!”

Jack sniffs. “Permission to terminate. Like nobody here was a fucking person, just a buggy program.”

Before anyone responds, the hologram glitches again. “Keep Jack alive!” it bellows a second later. Then it repeats. “Keep Jack alive! Keep Jack alive!” echoes through the chambers, over and over, until Miranda pulls a wire loose.

Ashley lets the others talk. She goes on ahead, down a flight of stairs, and finds her varren. Two of them. She sniffs. There’s no scent of rot on them. Not yet. So she kneels and drags her fingers through the blood. It moves like thick water, not quite coagulated, but still fresh. “Guys? I think we’ve got company,” she calls up the stairs.

From there, they proceed with their guns up. Ashley stays on point, but Jack’s on her heels. (Literally. More than once, the biotic would have crushed her heels if it hadn’t been for the armor.) And then they round a corner to the garbled, “Me _kill_ you!” of vorcha. Jack shrieks and throws her hands forward, slamming the vorcha into the wall. Nora follows the hold with an underhanded toss that bubbles into a singularity. Krogan come through the doors, roaring, not a full second later.

Miranda hits the floor, beside the rest of them, and tosses a warp into the center of the singularity. A resounding explosion makes Ash’s ears ring, but only one krogan’s roar remains when the din fades. And he’s almost on them, blood trickling from his nose, one eye socket full of viscera. Ashley charges, slamming into him and almost toppling him. Jack hurls something that makes him stagger, throwing his arms out. Nora fires. Both of his arms drop to his sides. As Ashley raises her shotgun to put him out of his misery, the commander singsongs, “Aaaay macarena!”

It almost throws off her aim. Almost. He collapses to the floor dead. Ashley turns, eyes narrow, and stares at Shepard. Both of her companions are doing the same thing. “The fuck?” Ash deadpans.

Nora shrugs, looking rather unapologetic. “He was dancing. Sort of.” She pauses and adds, “Look, I’m hardly good at anything except morbid jokes. I thought it was funny.”

They go on after that, all of them still eyeing Nora. “Wait… this is a morgue,” Jack realizes as they step over corpses. “Why would they have needed one here? It was a small facility.” Steel crates, labeled with numbers and little else, line one wall.

Ashley approaches one and reads the sticker. _Subject #0079. Eezo over-exposure. 9-19-2179._ The next one’s the same. Only the number is different. She shivers and turns away to find Miranda beside her, reading stickers as well. “…a lot of children died here,” she says, voice grave. “Even then, they were all parts of this experiment.”

“Bullshit!” Jack barks, turning around and glaring at Miranda. “I had the worst of it, and I fucking made it out alive, didn’t I?”

Nora steps in between them, her face serious. “Whether or not some sick SOB checked his work before he used it on you is something we can discuss later. Let’s plant your bomb and hit the road, Jack.”

The words register at the same time for all of them. Ashley slaps her forehead and groans. Jack rolls her eyes. Miranda just rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs.

  
\- - -

  
More hallways. Jack talks almost the entire time, staying close to either Nora or Ashley. Then they come to one with an overpass. They’re beneath the overpass before vorcha howls hit the air. Almost on instinct, Nora pulls up a barrier over their heads, and just in time. The vorcha — and one varren — bounce off the shield. Ashley shouts and charges them, unloading her shotgun into the closest vorcha. There’s only three, and in seconds, there are three new corpses.

“That was easy,” Miranda murmurs. Nora nods at her and turns. Two more steps, and her surroundings sink in. Dark, dank cells line the hallway. They’re stacked closely together, tiny little things Nora herself would be hard-pressed to fit into.

Shepard swallows and approaches one. The little bunk inside is barely more than a cot, even through the rotting rags on it. In the corner, there’s a rotting heap of cloth, something marked with a number. Even though it’s rags, she can read the number if she squints. _0091_. She shivers and backs away. “They kept — they kept children _here_?” Ashley demands from right behind her, horror in voice. “Jesus Christ on a cracker, kids aren’t supposed to be in places like this! When I was a kid, we were busy breaking arms and playing Turians and Humans!”

Nobody disagrees. They proceed. In the eerie quiet, varren howling crescendos before an entire pack bounds out of the last few cells. Startled, Nora yelps. Instinct again sends her hand flying out, a shockwave of biotic energy knocking over the pack. Ashley leaps forward, dispatching the closest with a quick shot. Jack and Miranda follow suit. Only seconds pass before the varren go down. Nora turns, glancing back at the other two biotics. Miranda’s watching her, eyes narrowed. _Shit. She noticed something off about my power._

“I’m getting really tired of varren being fucking everywhere,” Jack grouses. “The fuck are they here for? Are they like space cockroaches? Do they just pop up anywhere the krogan jizz? Isn’t there an Earth myth about some dude like that?”

Nora bursts out laughing. Miranda’s lips draw back in disgust. “Really, Jack, is that necessary?” she says. “Disrespecting your own mythos like that —”

That sends Ashley into laughter along with Nora. “If you’re talking about Zeus, he disrespects himself,” Nora gasps. “Seriously! Greek mythology is like an episode of _Love at First Flight_ , but worse!” It hurts to laugh, here in this place where people died, where Jack suffered, but even Jack chuckles along.

“You’re all ridiculous,” Miranda sighs, checking her gun and waving her hand ahead. “Shouldn’t we keep going?” The next room is thin metal walkways, rusted and creaking, dangling over a room much like Jack’s arena room.

After the first step forward, the metal creaks dangerously. Nora holds up a hand. “Let me go first. With my… uh. Well. Since I’m way more metal than I used to be, I’m the one most likely to make it collapse.” Miranda opens her mouth, but Shepard catches it and frowns at her. “I can use my biotics to bounce, you know, I’m not that fragile.” So she creeps ahead, armored shoes clinking against the metal. One piece slides beneath her foot, but it holds until she’s almost across. When she’s in front of a glassy mirror, her left foot lands. The metal cracks. Her foot begins sinking, but she yanks it away with a yell and skitters forward, letting the metal clank to the floor below. “Safe!” she calls.

Jack comes first, and she stalls in front of the giant mirror, leaning on the railing. “This… it’s a two-way mirror?” she mumbles, her gaze reflected in it. “My cell’s on the other side. I could always see the other kids out here…” Her shoulders shudder. Her head dips. “I screamed at them for hours, and I thought they were ignoring me.”

Ashley comes up behind Jack and switches her gun to her left arm. She loops the right one over Jack’s shoulders. “You didn’t know, J,” she tells her softly. “You were… this entire place was a mess. How could you know the kids weren’t just as bad as the people in charge?” She rubs the shoulder her hand’s resting on. “Come on. Let’s blow this place to hell and leave.” After a few more seconds staring, Jack turns away.

Another console yields more information in the next room — but not until Miranda hacks it very viciously. Prior to this, Nora’s not sure she’s ever seen someone hack something viciously — well, other than Tali. But the way Miranda tears through the firewalls and encryption is definitely vicious. “Entry — Entry —” Miranda leans down and flicks the exposed circuit board. It plays normally. “Entry 1054, Teltin facility. The latest iteration of PergNim went poorly. Subjects One, Four, and Six died. No biotic change among the survivors. We then lowered core temperatures of surviving subjects. No biotically beneficial reactions occurred. As a side effect, all subjects died. Subjects newly deceased were Five, Thirteen, Fourteen, Twenty, and Twenty-One. We will **not** be trying that procedure on Zero.”

The hologram pauses and turns its head offscreen, saying something inaudible, before turning back to the camera. “I hope our supply of biotic potential subjects holds up. We’re going through them fast. If —” Jack doesn’t let it finish. She shrieks, a burst of energy tearing the console off its moorings.

“That’s fucking _bullshit_!” she shouts, her voice echoing in the ruined chamber. “They weren’t experimenting on the other children for _my_ safety! It’s… no! I survived this shithole because I was fucking _stronger_ than them!”

Nora hums before she says anything. “Have you considered you’re strong because you did more than survive?” she asks, stepping away, not looking at Jack. “You can’t help what they did to others. They didn’t get the chance to be strong. Not because of you, but because somebody decided you were more precious than they were. You survived, though, and when you did, you moved on. Maybe the others wouldn’t have, even if they got the chance.”

Quietly, Miranda moves across the room to another console. While Jack’s standing, arms wrapped around her midsection, the last console roars to life. “…fallen to pieces! Zero’s loose, and the other subjects are rampaging!” Crashing off-camera distracts the scientists.

“Shut it down!” a female voice bellows. “We have to shut this down, now, or we won’t have a facility!”

“What a disaster,” the man sighs. “We’ll have to shut this down entirely. If even one subject gets away… we can infiltrate the Alliance, piggyback on their Ascension program.” Screaming off-camera. He doesn’t notice, eyes glued to his console. “Hopefully we can — what? Who — no, Zero, wait!” The last thing crossing the screen is a flicker of blue energy.

“Shepard!” Jack belts out, bolting for her. “They —”

“Ascension’s an Alliance program, yes. It’s a school for biotic kids. I didn’t go, but I’m pretty sure they don’t torture kids there,” Nora murmurs. “If we ever get the time, I’ll take you, and we can check it out ourselves.” Jack droops. But it’s a relieved droop.

“I’m glad,” she mumbles. “A lot of this… it isn’t like I remember it.”

Miranda snorts as she shuts off the console. “Like you could have known everything that went on? You were a child. Regardless of how biotically powerful you were, you were under duress. It’s a wonder you survived, and honestly, knowing the human mind, it’s a wonder you remember anything. A lot of people would have blocked out… everything… from their memory if they survived something like this.” She turns toward Jack, eyes averted. “I’m sorry you had to suffer like this, Jack. I’m sure it was awful.”

Nora’s jaw drops. So does Ashley’s, she’s sure, and she can hear Jack’s neck turning slowly to look at Miranda. “Yeah, it was,” is all that she says. “I… let’s go. We’re getting close to my cell.”

  
\- - -

  
Blood Pack dead on the floor, Miranda holsters her gun. “I think you stepping foot on a planet summons troublemakers, Shepard,” she teases, checking the nearest body for anything interesting. “Honestly. How do you always end up attracting entire squads of krogan mercenaries to planets in the literal middle of nowhere?”

Shepard just shrugs. “Did you hear him talking about how they ‘outnumbered’ and ‘outgunned’ us, though?” she asks, hopping over a crate. “They might have, but we out _bad-assed_ them!” Miranda shoots her a look and catches Ashley doing the same.

“C’mon. All that’s left is my old cell. Whoever Aresh is, he’s in there,” Jack mumbles.

Nora perks up and interrupts. “Do we get to Aresh-t him?” Silence follows, the silence itself dripping with complete and utter disdain from every single person in the room. Jack finally rolls her eyes and stomps past Nora, muttering swear words beneath her breath. “Too much?” Miranda hears Nora ask Ashley. “It’s supposed to be distracting.”

“Just because you can’t handle negative emotion doesn’t mean you should crack jokes when other people are having them,” Ashley hisses. “Seriously. Euch.”

Nora droops, all the way into Jack’s cell. Then they enter, guns up — to find nobody. After a second, Jack calls, “Come on out, shithead! We know you’re here!” A man, lanky and already close to being skeletal, creeps from behind the dingy cot. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Aresh,” the man says. “You’re breaking in. All but you. Welcome back, Subject Zero.” He steps closer to Jack, thin fingers reaching out, but withdrawing after a second. “So many years… I thought I was the only survivor.”

“My _name_ is Jack, and you’ll fucking call me that,” she snaps, pulling her gun up higher. “How the hell do you know who I was?”

Aresh laughs, long and low and eerie. “We all knew you, _Jack_. They tortured us, so they could torture you better. We suffered horrible things so they wouldn’t end up killing you. You… you were the question.” He laughs again, shorter this time. “I wish I knew the answer.” He turns away, every eye on him as he paces. “I tried to forget. I did. But a place like this… you don’t forget it. It doesn’t forget you. It follows. It follows your every thought, every waking minute…”

“That doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here, you delusional shitbag.” Jack shivers. “I know how it follows you. But I didn’t let it get inside me. I’m here to destroy this place. What are you here for? Living in old memories of when life was still shitty?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I hired those mercs… came back almost a solar year ago.” He turns, eyes alight. “We’re rebuilding this place, piece by piece. I’m going to find out what they knew, how to unlock _true_ biotic potential in humans…! I’m restarting —”

Thunk! Miranda whips her head around when Aresh slams into the two-way mirror. Jack still hasn’t moved, gun trained on Aresh. Nora’s the one with her hand out, blue-purple biotic field holding him in place. “No, you’re not.” She breathes out. “Jack’s here to destroy this place, Aresh. It’s what it deserves.”

“He’s trying to justify what happened,” Jack snarls. “He’s trying to use it! I’m blowing the place either way, but him —” she drops one hand from her gun and reaches out, her own biotics curling over Nora’s.

“Leave me here,” he sighs, the light gone from his eyes. “I belong with this place.”

“Fuck that!” Jack spits, aiming her gun once more.

“Jack, no! You’re better than this!” Miranda jumps in. “He’s trapped in his past. You’ve already moved past yours. Don’t let him drag you down!”

“Fuck you, cheerleader! He wants to restart this place! He deserves to die!” Jack replies. Miranda lets a flicker of biotic energy reach out — but no. Between Nora’s iron hold, and Jack’s over that, she can’t touch Aresh at all.

“He’s crazy, Jack. Out of his mind entirely. This is what I meant. You’ve grown past the person who escaped the Teltin facility, and he never did. Insanity like this… he can’t restart this place. You have to let it go, before it destroys you,” Miranda pleads. She barely recognizes herself. _Who am I, pleading with this criminal? When did I become this kind of person?_ The answer lingers in the back of her mind, but she doesn’t admit it. _When I saw Shepard help others while she struggled._

Tense energy hangs in the air. Finally Jack snarls a word, something unintelligible, and drops her gun. “Let him go, Shepard.” When he drops to the floor, she spits at his feet before telling him, “Get out of here! Go, before I change my fucking mind!” She turns to look at Miranda, her eyes dark swirls of anger. “I’m not going to tell you you’re right, cheerleader. I fucking loathe you. But he’s not worth it. None of it is.”

They linger then, Jack drawing oddly fond fingers over the crooked desk, a bloodstain on the wall — morbid memories. When she’s ready to plant the bomb, Nora turns to Ashley and mutters, “Go check and make sure the shuttle hasn’t been overrun, will you?” Ashley nods and leaves. Jack raises an eyebrow at Shepard, who shrugs. “I don’t know if she has bomb-related PTSD. Not about to find out.”

Five minutes later, they’re nearly at the entrance. Miranda turns to look at the room full of crates children were shipped in and says, “Good riddance to this awful facility.”

Jack snorts. “Yeah, just like you said good riddance to the one you resurrected Shepard in?”

Just like that, Miranda’s entire world falls to pieces. “What? How do you —” she spins to look at Jack. Jack’s standing at the top of the stairs, eyebrow raised. And Nora’s two steps away, fiddling with the console to turn the lights off. _Like that matters when this place is about to be a hole in the ground._ There’s no way she didn’t hear. “Jack, you **bitch**!” she roars, letting her biotics ripple outward as she charges at Jack. Jack jumps back, into the rain and the half-dusk light.

“If you lay a single finger on me, I’ll turn you into paste!” Jack roars right back. “You make me sick, prancing around and giving goddamn speeches like you’re so fucking high and mighty! You’re no better than the shitheads that turned this place into a hellhole! Did you ever ask Nora for permission to bring her back from the goddamn dead? Did you think of what it’d be like to live in a body you — _urk_!”

Miranda’s throw somehow catches Jack off guard, sending her across the landing pad. “Yes, I did!” she shouts, stalking toward the criminal. “I thought about every bit of it _in detail!_ ” Jack rolls backward and vaults to her feet, fists up, biotic halo around her. “I spent two years doing it, because nobody else would, or could! This galaxy needs people like Shepard, people who’ll do what it takes, people who believe… and she’s the only person who has that Prothean vision in her head!” Jack hurls something at her. It’s half-hearted and she knows it, because she bats it away like a balloon. “Between personal preferences, morality, and the galactic community dying **again** , I chose the greater good!”

“Fuck the greater good!” Jack bellows. Just then, Ashley vaults out of the shuttle, wide-eyed. Neither of them pay attention to her. “You could have at least told her, instead of skulking around the ship and spying on her!”

Anger bubbles up underneath Miranda’s skin. It’s more rage than anyone except her father has pulled from her. “I wanted to! But the Illusive Man knew she wouldn’t work for us if she thought we’d done it on purpose! Shepard’s always been exceptionally moral, and —”

This time, the shockwave knocks her over. “Shepard’s always been exceptionally moral,” Jack mocks her as Miranda pulls herself up. She hit the ground hard, and she can feel the blood dripping down the back of her neck. “Did you even think about this? Did the Illusive Dickbag? You just said she’s always done what she had to! Between all that about the galaxy ending and the Collectors, why _wouldn’t_ she work with you?”

“Because a Cerberus cell was responsible for her entire team dying!” Miranda yells back. More energy ripples toward her, but she knocks it away and charges at Jack, eager to feel skin beneath her hands. “Because she’s Commander Shepard! And you just _**ruined** _ —”

“ _ENOUGH!_ ” In the rain and anger, Nora’s voice sounds like a thunderclap. Miranda flies backwards against her will, her arms suddenly pinned to her sides. Jack’s the same, suddenly still as Shepard storms into the space between them, arms outstretched. “Both of you, shut up.” She snorts. “I don’t even think you’re really fighting about me, are you?”

“Of course I am, Shepard!” Jack shouts. “This bitch —”

“Did I _tell_ you to speak, Jack?” Nora roars, one arm twitching. Purple-blue seeps over Jack’s mouth as Nora turns to Miranda, eyes flinty. “Miranda —”

“Listen, Shepard, —” she starts.

Nora stops her with an upheld hand. “I already knew before this.” For the second time, in as many minutes, Miranda’s world falls apart. Only the biotics holding her still keeps her from falling to her knees in shock.

“How? How did you —” Then her mind clears. “Joker. I’ll kill that stupid pilot —” she struggles against the stasis field around her. “Irreplaceable or not, he shouldn’t have…” Jerking her shoulders does nothing. Stasis fields are often tight around hands and loose around shoulders. This one isn’t. So she strikes out against the energy with her own biotics. It barely wobbles. _How is she doing this?_ And then she looks up. Jack’s still struggling against the field holding her in stasis. It’s considerably weaker than the one on Miranda, but it’s there. _The drugs,_ Miranda realizes. _I didn’t realize they’d done this much!_

“Joker didn’t tell me,” Shepard says, very quietly. “Jack did. But Kasumi’s the one who found out. And you’re not to retaliate against _either_ of them, Miranda. That’s a direct order.” She sighs. “I’m sorry you had to find out I knew like this.”

Miranda lets her shoulders sag. “I’m sorry, Shepard,” she says to her feet. “I wouldn’t have done if I didn’t think it was necessary. And look at you. Even depressed, even struggling… you’ve done so much already.”

“So that justifies it?” Jack blurts. Miranda’s head snaps around. Jack’s free of Shepard’s biotics and starting toward her. “Does my power justify what your shitty organization did to me?” Barely a meter away, Jack freezes again, covered in blue-purple.

“When did I say that, Jack? I don’t think it was justified! But this cell, it wasn’t _real_ Cerberus, not the Cerberus I work for.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for violating your trust, Shepard. I wouldn’t have resurrected you if I’d thought anyone else could do what you’ve done.” Rain hisses past them, impacting the roof.

Nora’s laugh is sudden and cracks the air like brittle lightning. “Right, because Aria Kahan isn’t more inspiring than me?” she crows, voice almost a cackle. “She’s the model soldier. She’s even neurotypical! No messy brain for her!” She gulps a breath. “I do what I’ve done because nobody else will. I don’t even care that you brought me back from the dead, Miranda, and all the baggage that goes with that. I care that I didn’t **want** to come back.” After those words hit the air, heavy and dead, with no emotion at all behind them, Miranda can move. Jack stands still, watching Shepard stalk across the rooftop.

“…Shepard?” the dangerous woman calls. Miranda watches her, ready to fight. Just in case.

“Get on the damn shuttle, Jack. I don’t want to hear anything else out of either of you right now.” Nora climbs inside the shuttle. Ashley glares at them, but follows. And so do they.

  
\- - -

  
After they outpace the explosion, the sound barely a blip in their busy minds, Miranda’s the first to speak. “Shepard… there’s… I don’t know if you were told.”

Nora looks at her. From her spot to Shepard’s left, Jack can see how dead her eyes look. “What?”

Without further ado, Miranda begins babbling. “There’s a drug, you see. It’s practically a miracle. Whoever invented it was a genius. I approved its use while you were still unconscious, but recommended we discontinue it after you regained consciousness.” She gulps and exhales. “I was overruled. The Illusive Man ordered me to dose your food with this drug. It’s… it’s designed to increase biotic power. Red sand is similar, but more dangerous. Red Sheen — the drug — its effects are permanent.”

“I already know,” Nora answers, voice still flat. “When I went off with Zaeed, I had to take a ship. Reonn Kaemehr, formerly of the Hierarchy, ran tests on me and discovered the drug in my system. Thank you for your honesty, though.”

Miranda’s strangely still. “When you went off with Zaeed, you said?” Nora nods. “But I… that was… Nora, I haven’t given you a dose since you came back from Alchera.” Jack twitches. There’s nothing in Miranda’s body language that says she’s telling a lie.

“Really?” Nora hums, flicking her omnitool on. “Because there’s the test results. You tell me if they were falsified.” Seconds later, Miranda’s omnitool dings. The woman opens the file and scans it, her eyebrows growing closer and closer together the more she reads.

“No, Shepard… I swear. I haven’t given you a single dose since Alchera.” And then, wonders of wonders, Miranda turns dark red. “I… didn’t want to throw the drug out. So I hid them in the bottom of Jacob’s footlocker. Ah, in his, ah, underwear.” She looks away after that admission.

“…he never found them?” Ashley asks, while Jack just blinks and Nora does her best impression of a statue.

Miranda snorts. “As if. The man wouldn’t know a nice pair of boxers if they slapped him in the face. He wears an extra-strength undersuit and nothing else.” Ashley giggles.

Apparently galvanized by the sound, Nora leans forward, eyes intent. “Either the half-life of that drug is immense, or someone else is drugging me. As you can see.”

“The half-life… no more than three days, if that,” Miranda replies, re-reading the results. “This…” She looks up, even paler than she normally is. “I’ve stopped, I swear to you. You can check Jacob’s —”

“I’m not going near that, thank you,” Nora cuts her off. “If they’re there, Kasumi probably already has them.” She sighs and settles back into her seat. “Shit.”

  
\- - -

  
_I want the dosage increased again. She’s run all over the galaxy by now. The Reaper will be soon, if not next._

The reply is swift. _By how much, sir?_

_Double it._

_Are you sure that’s wise, sir? The effects of the drug…_

_I don’t care._

  
\- - -

 

 

Mordin’s in the mess hall when Nora comes out of the elevator, singing very quietly. The tune he recognizes, but the words are slightly different than he remembers. Nonetheless, he joins in. _“Someday, I’ll wish upon a star, and wake up where the clouds are far behind me —”_

She halts when his voice joins her. “Mordin? You sing?” she asks, incredulous.

“Often. Much Gilbert and Sullivan.” She blinks at him, so he swells up and sings. _“I am the very model of a scientist salarian, I’ve studied species turian, asari, and batarian, I’m quite good at genetics as a subset of biology, because I am an expert… which I know is a tautology.”_ Her jaw drops as he moves into the last line. _“My xenoscience studies range from urban to agrarian, I am the very model of a scientist sa-laaar-iaaan.”_

Unexpected applause comes from the door to the med bay. “Quite a good rendition, if a little unusual, Mordin,” Chakwas comments, stepping into the mess hall. “I can’t say I expected that.”

He smiles at her and Nora both. “Music very interesting. Art very interesting.”

“Life very interesting?” Nora breaks in, eyes dancing. “What else do you know?”

“Also fond of other human musicians. _Wretched_ , which has many iterations, _Phantom of the Opera_ , and so on.” He nods firmly. “Enjoy range of vocal talents Phantom has. Very challenging.” He has to smile as he adds, “Did **not** get it wrong, though.”

Nora’s grin is good to see. She’s been oddly distant since Tuchanka. “I’ve got a song we should modify for the Illusive Man, then,” she says, before breaking into song. _“He had it coming, he had it coming, he only haaad himself to blaaame!”_ Karin laughs, but joins in. _“If you’dve been there, if you’dve seen it, I betcha you would have done the same!”_ Again, the tune’s familiar, but the words are a little off.

“Preemptive, and a misuse of the song perhaps, but I can’t say I’m particularly fond of the man,” the doctor drawls after the words have fallen from them. Mordin nods.

“Illusive Man dangerous. Speaking of —” And then, Nora’s smile turns to something sharp. “I need you to run another blood test on me, Mordin.” She steps closer, motions Chakwas over. “Miranda told me she hasn’t drugged me since I got back from Alchera. I believe her.” She exhales. “That means there’s somebody else here, on this ship, drugging me somehow.”

Chakwas fairly bristles. “Cerberus needs to keep their noses out of your business,” she snaps. “Damn that man. There’s nobody else who’d order such a thing.” With that, she spins and stalks off, humming under her breath. _“He had it coming!”_

  
\- - -

  
Normally, the shuttle bay’s empty. Today when Ashley enters, Miranda’s standing and looking over the grenade launcher. “…Lawson?” she mutters, disbelieving. “Is there a mission?”

Miranda turns away and faces her. “No. I merely needed to speak to you.” She glances around at the crates, still stacked in wild positions from their exercise the day before yesterday. “Let’s… find a spot the cameras can’t catch us in.” A minute later, they’re in the middle of the crate-maze.

“What is it? Something else shocking and awful?” Ashley asks, crossing her arms. “Cause I already know you rebuilt me, too.”

She winces and lowers her eyes. “I wondered if you knew,” she mutters. “But no. I… last night… I took liberties. I only rebuilt you up to the baseline. Once you were conscious and functional, I was ordered to turn you over to others. I objected, but then the Illusive Man handed me Shepard.” She exhales. “I used my codes, and a little of my own skill, to unlock the files of the squad I was ordered to hand you over to.” She holds out a datapad, hand shaking. “They sent you on missions. They did some things to your hardware. I didn’t read everything. As soon as I was sure this was what it was supposed to be, I took it and left the rest alone.”

Stunned, Ashley takes the datapad. “…thanks, I guess.” She stares down at the datapad, lips tight. “Do I really want to know what’s on here?”

“Maybe not,” the Cerberus operative answers softly. “But it’s your decision now. I wiped the original files. You have the only remaining copies.” She inclines her head. “Do what you want. But I… I wanted to try and make this up to you.”

Ashley snorts. “I’m not the one you need to make it up to,” she scolds. “I’m happy enough I got another chance. But Nora? She’s fucked up. Whoever else is dosing her with Red Sheen’s not helping.”

Miranda’s shoulders go square. “I know. If I can find out, trust me, they will regret it,” she grinds out. Ashley looks at her, sees the blue eyes like ice, the set jawline, and believes it.

  
\- - -

  
Tali creeps into Jack’s hidey-hole, nervous. “Ah, Jack? Are you here?” she calls out quietly. A snort’s her answer. “Can I… is it alright if I come down?”

“Go for it,” Jack calls back. “Thanks for asking.” So Tali goes a little farther in and stands awkwardly at the foot of Jack’s cot. Jack’s sitting, legs sprawled, at the other end, furiously scribbling on a datapad. “Sup?”

“I… have something for you.” Tali inhales. “I’ve been in the Cerberus systems lately. I… might have erased any identifying data they had on you. And also ordered any DNA they had to be destroyed.” She crosses her arms and tilts her head a little. “Masquerading as the Illusive Man gets a lot of things done. Who knew?”

Jack looks up, stylus going limp. “Seriously?” she demands. “Are you shitting me?”

Tali steps back, aghast. “I would never — that would be an _awful_ joke. This isn’t a prank.” She swallows and holds out her hand. “If you’re willing to let me, I can attach this to your omnitool. It has a miniaturized version of the quantum entanglement communicator built in, along with — well. Basically, if you let me, Cerberus will never be able to track you through your omnitool again. All your messages will be safe. You’ll be able to be a person without Cerberus on your tail.”

Rapidly blinking, Jack says, “The fuck, Tali? I know I've been hanging in engi, but Jesus H, I’ve barely said half a dozen sentences to you outside of missions and a bunch of bullshit. That little gadget… how long’ve you been working on it?”

“It’s only a prototype of a prototype, really, but it should work.” She rolls it between her fingers before offering it again. “I… know what it’s like to be hunted. Not in the long term, but Saren had people hunting me for a little while. It’s not pleasant. And Nora told me a little about the facility. You deserve to live like Jack, not like Subject Zero.”

After a minute, Jack sets aside her stylus and datapad to stand. “You sure you don’t want to use this on somebody you know better? Shepard, or your favorite dinosaur sniper, or something?” she asks, extending her arm.

Tali shakes her head and bends over Jack’s arm, locating the subdermal bump of her omnitool. “You need this, Jack. You’ve suffered enough. At least Shepard signed up for the Alliance. You never signed up to be an experiment.”

  
\- - -

  
Even if nobody else notices when Kasumi’s present, Nora’s remarkably good at it. Despite coming up through the maintenance shaft to the captain’s cabin, the minute Kasumi pokes her head through the floor, Nora calls back, “Unless you’re here to convince me into getting that space hamster, I’m busy. If you’re here for that, I’m definitely very busy.”

“No, no space hamsters,” Kasumi replies, pulling herself up and pushing the hatch closed. “Slightly more dangerous.” She shakes the little bottle in her hand before deactivating her tactical cloak. “I was wondering why Jacob was stowing random bottles in his underwear, but this makes a great deal more sense. Here.” She doesn’t pitch it to Shepard, instead holding it out carefully. The bottle’s small, almost invisible in Kasumi’s hand, and nearly half-full with a crystal liquid.

Nora turns from her blacked out fishtank and takes it, sitting down on the table to examine it. “Red Sheen. Interesting.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Shep. I could have sold that for a lot,” Kasumi points out, wandering over to the fish tank. “What are these? Calculus homework?”

“Math? Me? No. Reaper plans.” Kasumi feels Nora’s gaze on her back for a minute. “And you wouldn’t have. For a thief, you have too many morals, Robin Hood.” Then Shepard sighs and stands, the couch creaking as she does so. “Thank you, Kasumi. You’ve done a lot for me you didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Kasumi says, turning. “You helped me recover what’s left of Keiji. Better infiltrators than you turned that job down. I’ll be grateful until the galaxy ends, or I do, whichever comes first.” Both of Nora’s (very disgraceful) eyebrows go up.

“Why wouldn’t I have done that? If we’d failed at that, I would have taken Jack in and we could have lit him up like a Christmas tree,” Nora says with a laugh. Then her voice goes a little more sober. “I don’t have anything left of Adelio. Not even the tattoo we got together, now. I was hardly about to turn you down.”

“Still.” And then, EDI comes to life near the door.

“Commander, Officer Vakarian’s exiting the elevator. Should I ask him to wait until Kasumi leaves?” the AI asks. Nora looks at her. Kasumi grins, gives her a thumbs up, and pries the maintenance shaft back open before activating her tactical cloak.

(She doesn’t, however, actually go down the shaft.)

  
\- - -

  
_She looks so tired,_ Garrus thinks when Shepard comes into sight. And she does. Her eyes, normally so warm and welcoming, seem cool and distant. Besides that, her mouth droops at the corners, and dark shadows hang on her face. “Come on,” she sighs, gesturing him in. She’s perched on the far side of the couch, one knee pulled up to her chest and the other stretched out along the couch. He sits carefully in the middle. “I…” she starts. Then she pauses for a minute.

“Comm — Shep — _Nora_ ,” he finally settles. “I’m sorry for —”

“Garrus, you don’t have to apologize for anything,” she cuts him off. “I… I called you up here to explain. You’re a good man, and you deserve more than I told you. You caught me off guard.” She sighs and drags her hand across her face. Then she reconsiders and plops her head into both hands. While she’s sitting and not looking at him, he takes a moment to look her over. The last time he saw that look in her eyes, she wasn’t eating. Luckily for him, she’s wearing one of the sleeveless shirts she usually reserves for her cabin and exercise, so he can see that her arms haven’t diminished, at least. Long pants hide her legs, so he can’t see those, but the arms alone reassure him. “How much do you know about me before I became a Spectre?” she finally asks.

He blinks. That’s… odd. “You survived a gigantic thresher maw attack. That’s… about it.” He drops his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not something I thought to look into.”

She laughs unexpectedly. “I hardly expected you to, and even if you did, the intervening years are… a lot of the missions I went on were classified.” She drags her face from her hands. “I asked because the background’s important.” Silence, for a minute, and she focuses on her feet. He focuses on her. “I never actually intended to join the Alliance as a marine. Literally what happened is I stood in the wrong line when the recruiters came to my college. I didn’t realize until I’d done all the paperwork. If I’d been normal, they would have transferred me to the piloting division like I wanted, but… I’d already said I had some rudimentary biotic ability. They didn’t want to let me go.”

He hums, letting his subharmonics add in a note of that’s awful before he remembers she can’t hear that. But she’s still talking, so he doesn’t speak.

“For all that, the first year was good. Basic was hard, but worth it. They sent me to an off-world posting pretty fast. It’s where I met Adelio.” She pulls her eyes up from her feet and glances at him. “I was an ensign when I met him, he was a lieutenant. And from the very start, it was just… like magic. Science. Whatever. We did a good job at keeping it under wraps, but we fell in love so quickly.” She smiles fondly at the hand dangling off her knee in a way that makes it clear she’s not seeing the hand. “We fought, oh, did we fight. But when we were assigned to Akuze, it was four months before the end of my first tour. He was going to re-up. I wasn’t, even if I’d made it to lieutenant already. We’d picked out a house on Earth, it was half-paid off… He was going to take some leave so we could get married.” She laughs again, this time a little harsher. “It was the perfect fantasy. I was so ready for it.”

“And then Akuze happened,” he mumbles in the silence.

“It wrecked everything,” she sighs. “I didn’t… I didn’t even touch someone after that till 2183. I decided to re-up after Akuze because I had nothing else. Same for 2180. And then, I thought… I thought I was past it all. I had three months till the end of my term in 2183 when I was assigned to the Normandy as XO. I was going to leave the Alliance, go exploring maybe, find a life of my own. And then Saren and Sovereign turned the universe into a shitshow. More plans wrecked.” She catches his eye finally. “Liara was there when I was vulnerable, and I took advantage of her. I don’t think either of us thought of it like that then. But she’s not even out of her teenage years for an asari, and I am… was… ready for something more serious. I hurt her by using her to prop me up.” She drops her eyes again and scrubs her face with her hand. “You know, everything’s fuzzier after a meld with an asari? I took advantage of that. Every time we had something happen, something went wrong, we’d have sex, and we’d meld… and it was like life wasn’t awful for a while.”

He inhales. She nods. “It was bad of me. She had enough hurting her, and I took from her without considering how it’d change her.” Her shoulders sag, her gaze returning to her toes. “I’m not convinced I didn’t have a little to do with her changing so much. When my depression gets bad, I’m so blase about everything. She never was... and then she _learned_ how to be blase.” Then she stops for a few minutes. They just sit in silence. The outstretched leg gets drawn up to her chest. “That’s why I said no, Garrus. I don’t —”

“Commander —” EDI interrupts.

“ _What_?” Nora snaps.

“I apologize for interrupting, but Operative Lawson is on her way to your cabin, and I cannot dissuade her.” EDI pauses. “Mr. Moreau suggested he might give her pause. I do not believe his intentions were good.”

“What — son of a _bitch_ , are you — tell her I’ll be down to talk to her shortly!” Nora grumbles, springing to her feet. Garrus blinks at her and then at EDI’s orb.

“I have already attempted to do so, Commander. She says this is extremely time-sensitive information.” Another pause before the AI speaks again. “She will be here in seventeen seconds. I have stalled the elevator as long as I can.”

  
\- - -

  
“Just a moment, Operative Lawson,” EDI tells her when she reaches the cabin.

It’s not even a minute before the door slides open and she enters. She expects Nora to be drowsy-eyed, perhaps, fresh from the throes of a nap. Instead, she’s standing in the middle of her cabin, hands firmly on her hips. Garrus reclines on the couch, glancing between them. “Ah, I didn’t realize you were otherwise occupied, Shepard,” Miranda mumbles. “I… think this is information best suited for your ears alone.”

Nora, eyes sparking with anger, says, “Garrus can hear anything you have to tell me, Miranda. What is it? Something else unfortunate about my resurrection?”

Miranda snorts. “No, I’m all out of information about that for the moment. Sorry to disappoint,” she replies dryly. “I was… somewhat imprudent last night, and may have… taken liberties with the access I have to Cerberus files. Along with a little bit of… less ethical skills, I was able to find some information.” She clears her throat. “I _am_ sorry for causing you distress, Nora. This information won’t change any of the distress I did cause you, but perhaps it will prove I do have only the best intentions.”

Both of Nora’s eyebrows reach for her hairline. “What is it? The identity of the Illusive Man’s mistress and his bank account?” she replies. “Cause that’d do it.”

“No.” Miranda hesitates for a second. “He has no mistress. I know that much. But… this is… your former lover, Doctor T’soni, she seeks the Shadow Broker.” A long, shallow breath, before she continues. “Cerberus knows — has known — the approximate location of the Shadow Broker, and they have a link to someone who keeps the exact ones. I have that information, if you would like it.”

Garrus sits bolt upright. Nora turns into a statue. “You’re serious?” she demands. “No traps? No bullshit?” Miranda shakes her head no. Nora starts pacing. “This… Liara would kill for this.” And then she spins on Miranda, eyes ferocious. “Give it to me. Please.”

She hands over a datapad. For a second, she regrets handing them out so freely — they don’t come cheap for more than a few, and hers are scattered all across the ship now. Nora snatches it away, devours the information on the first page, and smiles wide. “This is _amazing_ , Miranda. Thank you.” Nora looks up and turns a smile on her, the smile Miranda hasn’t gotten since their last trip to Ilium. “ _Thank you.”_

(Although she’s smiling when she leaves the cabin, she notices Garrus stays behind, and grins to herself like a madwoman.)

  
\- - -

  
Joker sitting in the mess hall bay, lazily chucking paint rounds at Tali, when the commander comes over the intercom. “Course change. Get us to Nos Astra stat, Joker.” He’s on his feet and hobbling toward the elevator almost immediately, frantically messaging her.

 _Nos Astra?? 4 what??_  
_we JUST got 2 Hawking system_  
_not going after reaper ship magic after all???_

The message comes back almost as fast.

I _just got intel on the Shadow Broker’s location. I don’t know how long it’s going to be good for. I’ve already sent Liara word. GO._  
_Besides, we’ve been orbiting Hawking for two days now making sure it’s not a trap. That’s not ‘just’ got here, you ship nerd._

He replies, _my poor Normandy :( :( :(_

_JOKER_

He goes.

  
\- - -

  
After issuing orders to Joker, Nora turns to Garrus, mouth drooping. “I — I think we should finish this —”

A burst of anger hits his stomach and worms its way through him. “We have time now, Nora,” he says, doing his best to say it gently. Judging by the minute flinch, some of his emotion bled through.

She closes her eyes and exhales before looking straight at him. “Do you understand now, at least? I hurt Liara. I don’t want to hurt anyone else like I hurt her. I’ve made enough mistakes already.”

Garrus can’t help his sigh. “Yes, because you always repeat the same mistake over and over,” he drawls. “I know how you handle mistakes, Nora. I’ve seen it.” She opens her mouth, but he continues talking. “First, you figure out what went wrong. Second, you figure out why it went wrong, and who’s at fault. Third, you figure out how to stop it from happening again.” He leans forward, not letting her look away from his gaze. “You don’t repeat mistakes unless you like the result, like when you threw three grenades instead of one.”

She’s shaking, just barely, when she answers him. “That’s for missions, for things that go wrong with equipment or personnel, Garrus. As far as people go, I’m a mess. And you deserve _better_ than someone like me.” Nora raises her hands to her face and cups the bottom, breathing out harshly, before dropping them and going on. “Everything I’ve done is because I had to, or it was expected of me. My first promotion was because I followed regs. The second one was because I made other people follow regs. After that, everything got out of control.” She chuckles, low and dry. “I died, and you turned into the self-proclaimed version of Omega Security. You had the three biggest merc gangs in the Terminus after you!”

“Your point is?” he says, standing and stepping closer.

Her gaze flits away. “My point is you’re great because you’re you, Garrus. I’m great because there was an extraordinary confluence of circumstances. You deserve someone who’s great on their own.”

“Like you?” he hums, taking another step and settling one hand on her shoulder. Shocked, her eyes dart up to his. “Anyone can be thrown into a situation, Nora. Not everyone can make the best of those situations.” He lets his palm slide, just a little, on the warm skin of her shoulder. It’s soft, softer than even his unplated skin, and so _thin_.

His reward is a shaky breath. “No, Garrus. Better than me. Someone who seeks greatness. Someone who doesn’t flop around like a salarian with contrary data.” Slowly, as if against her will, her far hand comes up to rest on his. “But it’s… the reason I said no… it’s absolutely not you.” For a minute, she just blinks, as if trying to keep something out of her eyes. “I wish I was good enough to say yes. I’m lonely, and you’re _wonderful_. But…”

“But nothing,” he insists, taking hold of her other should. “Neither of us know if we’re coming back once we hit the Omega-4. A little happiness couldn’t hurt.”

Something about his words sets her off. She steps back, yanking her shoulders out of his grip. “What — what do you think we’re in, Garrus? Some kind of romance novel? A vid?” she demands, her mouth drooping between words. Her dark eyes take on a familiar sheen. “I hope you don’t think snuggles and sex are going to… to make me not want to die. That’s not how this works, okay?” Nora exhales, her face flickering between emotions — all of them hurt his heart to look at. “Even when I was with Adelio, when I had something to look forward to and be happy about, I would still… Every time we had shore leave, I had a fit of depression. _Every time._ ” Finally, her face just collapses, so she buries it in her hands and mumbles her last words. “You deserve _better_.”

“Did he believe that?” he asks, stepping closer again.

She mumbles a tearful sounding, _“No, the ass.”_

He snorts. And after a pause, trying to think of the right words, he says, “Then let me be the judge of what I deserve. Nora… if you don’t want anything to do with me like this, just say so. I’ll fire it into deep space and you’ll never hear about it again. But if that’s the only reason you’re saying no… for my sake… don’t.”

“I can’t hurt anyone else,” she whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever done.”

He breathes out. “No, it’s not. It’s really not,” he whispers back. Gently, he reaches out and slides one hand over hers, letting his talons sneak under the edge. “We don’t even know if we’re coming back alive after this. If one of us dies on the other side, it’s a null point. If we both come back… if you decide you don’t want this, or you’ve hurt me too much already… then it’ll be over.”

So softly he thinks he’s imagining it, she mumbles something. Her grip on her face relaxes, so he reaches for her other hand and pulls them both away. Her face is teary, her mouth still a wobbly line. “Are you sure?” she asks, looking up at him. “Are you **really** sure?”

  
\- - -

  
Rationality has utterly deserted Nora. Her heart’s thundering in her chest, beating out an entirely different tempo than the one her mind’s desperately trying to remind her of. _You’re wanted, you’re wanted, you’re wanted,_ it sings, in direct opposition to her thoughts of _you can’t, you can’t, you can’t._

“Nora?” Garrus breathes, tightening his hands over hers, just a little. She inhales with a gulp and nods at him, meeting the bright blue of his eyes. “I wouldn’t have said a word if I wasn’t sure,” he rumbles. And then, the impossible warmth of his hands disappears as he pulls away. Before she has time to be diappointed, he leans over and taps his forehead against hers.

 _Oh — oh._ Her heart swells, bursting from its moors, and its thunder drowns out her reason. “Okay,” she whispers, hands hovering in the air. “I — okay.” She takes a deep breath. “And you’re sure there’s… that we… whatever we are…” she huffs and starts over. “Whatever we are, are you sure you can still be objective in combat?”

Garrus snorts. “Please. I might be a bad turian, but even the worst is good at that much,” he drawls. This he follows by reaching for her waist and drawing her closer with a shuddering breath. “As for what this is… we don’t have to call it anything at all.”

Between the two of them, the only sound is the thrum of Garrus’s subharmonics. Nora’s hands hover in the air hesitantly for a few seconds. Then, tilting her head back a little farther, she reaches up and cups his cheeks. Even beneath the gentlest of touch, he twitches, so she pulls away. One of his hands catches hers and places it back on his cheek. “It doesn’t hurt,” he says quietly. “Just…” His half-open eyes hold treasure troves of emotion.

She understands and and closes her eyes. They stand there, silent and peaceful, for as long as they can.

  
\- - -

  
Somehow, they make it to Nos Astra within 27 hours. It’s barely dusk when they dock, the Normandy’s drive core running hot. “Liara sent me coordinates to her apartment,” Shepard tells her team as they pile out of the airlock. Thane, Kasumi, and Garrus all nod at her. “I don’t know where we’ll be going from there, but —”

“I hope it’s dangerous,” Kasumi purrs. “That always makes it more fun. You invite me to the best parties, Shep.” Nora shoots her a grin and flags down a taxi. Thane meditates on the way there, uncertain if he’ll have another chance soon.

His suspicions hold true. They land at Liara’s apartment building to find it surrounded by I-Sec. “Son of a bitch,” Shepard breathes, power walking through the lobby and up the stairs. As they go up, it becomes evident Liara’s penthouse apartment is the center of attention. “Of course,” Shepard hisses. Then she flags down an officer standing inside the apartment. “What happened here?”

Thane hides his amusement when the officer drones, “This area is sealed off. Please step back, ma’am.”

“Step back?” Nora glowers and take a step forward, just barely outside of the police tape.

Before either officer or commander can say anything more, someone calls from inside, “Someone tried to kill your friend, Commander Shepard.” An asari, pale blue with violent purple markings, descends the stairs. Thane stiffens. “Thank you, officer. Your people are dismissed,” she says, waving off I-Sec.

“What? You can’t do that —” the officer protests.

Shepard steps past the tape and speaks, voice firm. “Actually, I can. Spectre Shepard. Your services are no longer required, officers. I’m taking over this investigation, effective immediately. Thank you for your quick response.” The turian and three asari pack it up quickly.

While they get ready to go, Thane murmurs to Shepard, “She’s a Spectre as well. Tela Vasir. Notorious for… a loose interpretation of Spectre codes.” Nora’s jaw goes tight, but she nods.

“Vasir, right?” she calls, approaching the asari. “You still a Spectre?” Vasir nods. Next to him, Thane can hear Garrus tapping his talons against his legplate nervously. The two Spectres banter back and forth for a moment before Shepard breaks away. “Search the apartment, guys. Liara left something behind, I’m sure.”

Garrus skims the bookshelf. Thane goes to work on the bedroom, methodically moving and checking everything not bolted down. Kasumi works at the terminal, fingers flying, while Shepard and the other Spectre work on the living room. Thane finds nothing. Halfway through his search, but Nora finishes downstairs and comes up to help. “How do you know Vasir?” she asks, her words disguised by the thump of the furniture moving.

“I don’t,” Thane answers, voice as low as it goes. “I know of her. Many friends have… not returned from words with her.” She sighs and grits her teeth.

“Thank you.” The Spectre comes up to the top of the stairs just then, so Nora turns away and rifles through the bedcovers.

“Nothing here either, so far,” she tells Vasir. Then she eyes the picture frame next to the bed. “I suppose it’s out of bounds to be sad she doesn’t have my picture by her bed, huh?” she says into the air. Thane watches her from the corner of his eye. Vasir’s poking around, too, as Nora goes on. “At least it’s the Normandy. She’s still a little sentimental any — _well_ , okay then.” She blinks violently. Thane sits up from his rummaging underneath the mattress. Nora’s fingers, resting on top of the picture frame, have changed the image. Thane recognizes it quickly, more from deduction than anything else.

Vasir voices his thoughts. “It must be tuned to recognize your touch.” Nora raises one eyebrow. “Perhaps it’s a clue to where she went?”

“Because she had so much time to leave clues when she was attacked?” the commander asks, setting down the picture. “I’ll check some of the relics. Maybe that’s what she meant. But it’s equally likely that she reprogrammed the picture to my biometrics once she was out.” She eyes the frame again. “Honestly, it makes me think it’s a message for me to go to the local Prothean exhibition.”

“You think that’s it?” Vasir asks, cocking one hip and resting a hand on it. “It’s a little bit of guesswork…”

Nora snorts, and then it turns into a giggle. “Guesswork?” she says, amused. “Really? In what way? It’s a picture of the Normandy, and then it’s a picture of Prothean ruins. Unless she means for me to take the Normandy to every Prothean archeological site in the galaxy to find her, I think it’s a pretty safe bet to say she’s at the museum.” She turns and grins at Vasir. “Liara knows me pretty well. She knows exactly how much effort I like to put into some things. If I _have_ to go relic hunting, I will, buuuut…”

Thane smothers a smile as he steps in. “You are correct, Commander. However, there are two museums within Ilium’s bounds that have notable exhibits on the Protheans.”

Nora’s smile fades. “Oh. Well.” Then it flickers back on. “Time to split up, gang!” Kasumi’s faint giggle from below is the only response. “Thane, Kasumi, you take… I don’t know.”

“I’ll take the Museum of Intergalactic Technology, Shep!” Kasumi calls up. “I want to see if their security’s gotten any better lately.” Thane nods and heads for the stairs.

Behind them, he hears Shepard call out, “Garrus and I have whatever the other one is!” Another giggle from Kasumi.

Vasir comments dryly, “Perhaps I should go with you, since you hardly seem familiar with Ilium.” Thane hears Shepard hum in assent as he and Kasumi disappear.

  
\- - -

  
Vasir’s used to humans, asari, salarians — people of all sorts, honestly. She expected something different from Shepard than what she’s seeing. Only the insane Spectres hum show tunes under their breath on their way to a potentially dangerous rendezvous. But she goes ahead with her initial plan. “I hope the doctor is alright. Whoever went after her must be dangerous, if they went after her so openly,” Vasir remarks. _That should make her worry —_

Shepard’s answer of a giggle cuts her thoughts short. She twists around and grins at Tela, one hand bracing herself on the turian’s armplate. “Liara’s a big girl. Besides that, she has friends in Ilium… friends who are dangerous enough to make their own government leave them be. If all else fails, she can go to them.” That answer makes Tela bristle as the commander flops back into her seat. None of the intelligence the Shadow Broker’s given her suggests the other asari has such powerful friends.

But she calms, and asks, “Really? I didn’t realize she had such… widespread contacts.”

Shepard’s focused on the turian’s armplate now, licking her thumb and rubbing at some spot on it. “Well, you usually don’t noise about such things. I’m pretty sure either or both of the sisters would eviscerate her if she let that slip, actually.”

 _Sisters? What sisters?_ Rapidly, Tela runs through all the criminals she knows of, the ones in the Broker’s employ and outside of it. Only two matches come to mind. Two are batarian sisters who raid the slaving caravans of their own people, merciless enough to give the Hegemony pause. But they largely stay close to the Bahak system. The other two… _Shit, if T’soni knows the Kaemehrs, this just got a lot worse._

“We’re here,” the turian rumbles. The shuttle clanks down just then, proving it true. Distracted by the idea the Kaemehr are in league with T’soni, she climbs out. Then the scent of the air tips her off. The museums are all in heavily perfumed parts of Ilium. Here, she can smell the stench of the lower class. They aren’t even in a parking lot. It’s the top of a building.

“Where —” she starts to ask, turning her gaze to Shepard. The dark gaze the commander pins her under stops it.

“So did you think they left my brains out when they came back from the dead, Vasir?” Shepard says, drawing her words out slowly. “Why would you be at Liara’s apartment? She hasn’t done anything to catch Council attention. If you were there with her when she was attacked, why weren’t you driven off, too?” Her eyes narrow. “You’re connected to the Shadow Broker, aren’t you?”

“And if I am?” Tela spits back, stepping away slowly. The turian’s gone missing, so she keeps an eye out for him.

Shepard’s sudden bright grin accompanies the commander clapping her hands together. “Then I get to do the hero thing by stopping you, finding Liara, and taking the Shadow Broker downtown.” For all the humor the words themselves hold, the dryness of her voice takes it all away. But —

It still sends Tela into a fit of wild laughter. “You?” she cackles. “The token human Spectre? You couldn’t stop a rogue varren, let alone stop me! How do you think you’ll do any of that?”

 _CRACK_! Something thuds into the back of her head, almost knocking out her shields. Only the flare of kinetic energy she’s programmed into her armor keeps the round from knocking her out. “Teamwork helps,” she hears the turian drawl.

She spins and hurls a singularity in the direction of the voice. He’s already rolling, out of the way. Gunfire rocks her forward onto her toes, sending her into a somersault. When she lands, she’s facing Nora again, and she’s nearly on the edge of the roof. “If I can’t stop a rogue varren, I guess that makes you a rogue pyjak,” the commander snarls. “Do hold still a moment, won’t you?”

Tela snorts. “You think knocking me off my feet is a victory? What do they teach humans in your Alliance? Oh, I know… how to fraternize with their superiors. No wonder you got your ranks so quickly!” Another sniper round. She’s on edge now, so it’s easily deflected with a swipe of biotic energy.

Rather than Nora growing angry, she laughs gleefully. “Like I haven’t heard _that_ about seventy thousand times? Adelio never sent in an eval where he recommended me for promotion. It was all other officers. I earned my rank.” Her grin turns rakish. “So how ‘bout yours, babe?”

A dual-toned snort precedes another round. This one cracks her armor, right along the weak spot at the left of her torso. Vasir snarls, but she’s close enough to the edge of the building. “Enough,” she spits. “Say goodbye to any memories you have of your doctor, Shepard. You won’t be seeing her again.”

With those parting words, Tela pours biotic energy into her feet. It takes her off the edge of the building. A tap to her omnitool summons a car, only a block away.

Oddly, the two don’t pursue.

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi cracks the in-car safe in the cab seven different times on their way to the Trade Center. Shepard replies to their message in between the second and third safe crack. “What shoddy security,” Kasumi declares after the seventh, settling back into her seat. “How do people not expect their things to get stolen when I could do this in my sleep?”

Thane just hums as he parks the car. “It is in the best interests of all sapient beings to assume others will not treat them so. Otherwise, fear and distrust take hold. Instability becomes inherent in the structure of society.”

“Mmm,” Kasumi responds. “Is that the car Shep took?” Across the plaza, a bright blue car with a dark stripe lands. Even from a distance, Nora’s red and black armor catches the eye, say nothing of her turian’s. “Answered my own question.”

“You’re sure Liara’s transmission led here?” Shepard asks as soon as they’re close enough to hear her.

“Certain,” Kasumi answers her. “Genius, really. I’d love to know how she remotely programmed a _picture frame_ to not only respond to a biometric signature, but to send a message encrypted in Prothean protocols that only decrypted once you had touched the frame… And here I’d discounted asari as hopeless with technology.”

Nora just raises one eyebrow. “Discounting anyone as anything is dangerous, ‘sumi. Let’s go.”

 _KKKKRAAAKOOOOOM!_ Seconds after they step into the lobby, the building comes apart around them. Kasumi hits the ground, seconds after Thane. Twin thumps accompany Nora’s knees coming into her line of sight. Biotic energy ripples outward, stretching out to cover as much area as possible. None of them state the obvious as the building creaks and groans around them, the people in the lobby shrieking in fear and relief. Garrus, however, does ask, “How big was that bomb?”

Nora makes a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. “Why does the size of the bomb matter?” she gasps out. Kasumi slides onto her knees, keeping her head low. The commander’s next to her, kneeling. The lobby-wide biotic field flickers wildly, but doesn’t fall, even as Shepard’s eyes cross. _**“GET THOSE CIVILIANS OUT OF HERE!”**_

Even before she roars, the people are already on their way on, stumbling over their feet but still fleeing. After she bellows, her voice carrying to the corners of the room, it takes only seconds before they’re the only ones left. Garrus pulls Nora to her feet as the shield flickers out. “Which floor is she supposed to be on?” he asks, his voice a protective rumble.

“The message… wasn’t _that_ specific, Shep. It’s a wonder she got off as much as she did.” Kasumi opens her omnitool and her fingers dance over it. “Really, when I’m fleeing for my life, I don’t usually take time for specifics.” They move toward the far side of the lobby, her hands moving like lightning. “But, thanks to your new favorite hacker, I have admission records. Tiala R’nosi signed in earlier, going to Baria Frontiers offices. Third floor.”

“New favorite hacker? You mean you weren’t my favorite already?” Nora teases. Kasumi catches her looking at the elevators. “How many credits are you willing to bet on the elevators being out?”

“I don’t even think you could get Donnelly to take that bet,” Garrus mutters. “Stairs over —”

The stairs get sidetracked by them dodging bullets.

  
\- - -

  
As they finally make it up the stairs to the third floor and come to the Baria Frontiers office, Garrus tosses a proximity mine behind them. The last of their pursuers triggers it seconds later. He mutters beneath his breath, “It’s not the size of the bomb, it’s how you use it.” Muffled giggles from nearby tell him only Kasumi heard.

Shepard motions him forward, her hands saying, Get ready. Kasumi is nowhere in sight. Thane, too, is little more than a flicker in the shadows. Nora stands, gun raised as a barrier ripples over her skin. The doors slide open as shouts, “Spectre Shepard! Stand down!” Nobody answers.

After a second, Nora lowers her gun. “I’m not getting any pings from inside. The main room is clear, at least.” Garrus takes point. All he finds is a wrecked office and a dead salarian.

“Sekat. He runs the Baria Frontiers offices here on Ilium,” Kasumi interjects. “Extremely involved in the information trade, and probably one of Liara’s contacts.” Thane kneels beside the body and inspects the wound.

“This entry and exit wound… they match the caliber and model of Vasir’s preferred pistol.” He stands and dusts his hands off before looking straight at Nora. “Point-blank execution. If he had any information about Liara, she wanted it before he died. And I'm willing to bet the Broker's location is on him, too."

Nora mutters darkly beneath her breath before speaking louder. “And we don’t know if she got it out of him. Beautiful.”

The door to the next room unlocks and slides open. All of them spin, guns leveled on the empty space behind it. Nobody emerges. But sound does. “Shepard?”

“Liara?” Nora says, surprised, and lowers her gun.

Garrus stops her. “How do we know it’s you, Liara?” he calls. He’s seen and heard enough tricks. Technology isn’t even necessary to mimic another person’s voice for some.

A snort comes from the darkness. “Because I can tell you _exactly_ what Joker sent you, Garrus. Where do you think he got all of it?” She steps out from the darkness, just barely, and begins ticking off fingers. “First, there’s the pamphlet on amino-dextro reactions. Written by Mordin, yes, but Jeff didn’t know that. There’s the treatise on differences in turian and human culture, and then there’s the… ah… supplemental video material, concerning —”

Garrus cuts her off right there. “It’s her.” She smirks at him and steps fully from the darkness. Blood, the crystalline-sharp scent of asari, fills his nostrils. “You’re hurt?”

“Merely a flesh wound.” Stretching her arm out, she displays the gouge in her side. It’s not deep, but still bleeding sluggishly. “Sekat was dead when I got here. The bomb… well. You were probably present for the bomb. I’m not sure what it was meant to accomplish, beyond covering the tracks of the Shadow Broker’s agents.” She sniffs haughtily. “Shadow Broker. Because nothing says, ‘I operate in the shadows’ like dozens of soldiers blowing up buildings.”

Nora’s belly laugh surprises Garrus. “Well, at least they had masks on?” she offers, stepping closer to Liara and offering a pack of medigel. “We ran into a Spectre on the Broker’s payroll at your apartment. She —”

“Can speak for herself, Commander,” comes Vasir’s predatory purr from the hallway. This time, only three guns turn. Kasumi and Thane are nowhere in sight.

“Vasir. You killed Sekat, didn’t you?” Liara snarls.

The other asari tilts her head and hums. “The little shit behind you? Yes. And I took what you were looking for. The data on the Shadow Broker’s base? Mine now.” Garrus twitches, but doesn’t pull the trigger. Not yet. “I even have it on me… Not that you’ll ever get to see what’s on it —”

“Is that so?” Kasumi’s voice chimes in. The thief fades into view, flipping the disk up and down in her hand. “Funny, your hands look awfully empty to me.”

Vasir actually gasps. “How —”

Kasumi sweeps into a dramatic bow. “Kasumi Goto, master thief, and… occasional pickpocket.” Under the edge of her cowl, Garrus sees the sly curl of her mouth.

“You _bitch_!” the Spectre explodes, with both words and biotic energy. The energy ripples out from her in a violent shockwave.

If he didn’t know Jack or Samara, it might be impressive. But he does. And Nora, surprised but ready, slings up a biotic shield. Vasir’s own biotics reflect back at her, nearly sending the asari to the floor. Thane melts out of the darkness to catch the Spectre, one glowing hand at her throat and the other holding a pistol to the base of her back. “I wonder, Spectre, do you remember the name Qilar?”

“Qilar Raspectus?” she growls. Garrus eyes the woman’s hands, wondering why Thane hasn’t caged them. “I do. I also remember how he _whined_ when I —” Bzzzzt! Vasir’s fingers are barely in contact with her pistol when the electric shock shakes her body.

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Kasumi hums, still fllipping the disk. “I distracted you. Sere Krios, behind you, planted miniature shock field mines on your pistols. The only chance you have left is your biotics.” She pauses as the disk lands in her hand and taps a finger to her lips. “Oh, wait. No chance. I count one, two, three biotics. Even if you’re more powerful than one —”

Garrus sees the ops squad burst into the hallway first. “Thane! On your six!” he shouts, already dropping to his knee and switching guns. Thane hurls Vasir away and fires his gun in one move before he vanishes again.

Vasir hits the ground this time. Thane’s shot lands right in the meat of her thigh. “Fuck!”

“Not my type, Tela!” Shepard shouts, reaching out and toppling half the ops squad with her biotics before spinning on the other Spectre. But it’s too late. The asari’s on her feet and running for the window, already weak and nearly shattered by bullets. Wrapped in energy, Vasir bursts through it into the open air. Focused, Garrus doesn’t realize what’s happening until he hears the thunderous _thump_ from outside, followed by twin sets of footsteps.

A glance over his shoulder — both Liara and Nora wrapped themselves in biotic energy and hurled themselves from the window. “And I thought I was dramatic,” Kasumi’s whisper touches his ear. He focuses in front of him. Thane’s taking out the last engineer. Garrus lets the shudder of his gun assure him the last of the soldiers have fallen.

And then he sprints for the stairs.

  
\- - -

  
Another ops team bursts from a door in the floor below as Liara and Shepard dash after Vasir. More in sync than any practice could have made it, they hurl twin shockwaves and blow the entire team off their feet. Vasir has a little headway, but not much. “Get rid of those bitches!” they hear her snarl as they approach the lobby.

They’re greeted by gunfire. “By the Goddess, where are all these teams coming from?” Liara grumbles, diving for cover.

“Garrus, Thane, Kasumi! Where are you?” Nora barks into her comm, barreling into a soldier. Between the biotics wrapped around her body and the force of her sprint, the man’s on the ground before he knows she’s there.

“On our way!” Garrus answers. The deep tone of his voice sends a shiver down her spine, but — _not now_ , she tells herself. Singularities require far less focus than they used to.

“Liara!” she barks, tossing one underhand at the group. Liara watches the dark energy fly and nods, throwing her own contribution into the mix. The resulting explosion makes Nora grin. And as they rush the door, yet more soldiers. “Get out of my _way_!” Nora bellows as the soldiers take aim. The biotic energy that bursts from her leaves her almost dizzy at its intensity.

Seconds later, they hear the _woosh_ of a skycar. “She’s getting away!” Liara shouts. “Damn it!”

“Like hell she is! Not after trying to kill you!” Shepard shouts back. The anger’s there, coiled inside her stomach, slithering into her lungs. _How dare she how dare she **how dare she**_ — Nora hits her comm. “Garrus, Thane, I want you down here **now**! Kasumi, take that disk back to the Normandy.”

“Aw, that’s no fun, Shep,” Kasumi’s pout comes over the line. She doesn’t care. She’s already across the parking lot, revving up the engine and pulling it as close to the trade center as she can.

Liara needs no urging to climb in. Garrus and Thane come boiling out of the building, and Thane’s in the car the second he sees it. Garrus, however, hesitates. “Are you sure —”

“Garrus,” she says, menace in her voice. He climbs in without protest, though he does look a bit nauseous. Five minutes later, she decides that of all the things she thinks she’s ever driven, this ridiculous taxi might be her favorite. With Liara shrieking in her ear, Garrus groaning behind her, and Thane’s stony silence, it’s wonderfully amusing. Every time she accelerates, it gets a little louder. But when Vasir bounces off a truck and nearly careens into them, she sees her chance. “Thane! Take the wheel!”

He blinks at her — she can see it in the mirror — but climbs over the seat awkwardly. Liara squishes against her door to give him room, her eyes largea. It’s almost like it used to be. Nora grins and hits the window control. “Shepard?” she hears Liara say, her voice worried.

She crawls out the window, wrapping her body in biotics, and onto the roof. The car lurches horribly, presumably Thane taking over, but doesn’t lose speed. Her own mass effect field interferes with that of the taxi, and she can feel a little of the gravitational force tugging at her. Seconds later, they come down, leveling with Vasir. Nora focuses, presses biotic energy into her heels, and _jumps_.

 ** _KrknchTHUD!_** is how she lands on Vasir’s car — heavily. The roof caves in beneath her feet. Glass creaking tells her the windshield’s compromised. She hums in pleasure, debates drawing her gun and busting it open, but… “This way is so much more satisfying,” she whispers to herself, wrapping her fists in energy and slamming them into her dent. The car shudders. Another _bang_! The metal’s beginning to shriek beneath her, and grow sharp edges. _BANG_! There’s enough of a puncture for her to reach in and pull back on the metal, peeling it open like an antiquated ‘tin can’.

“Are you insane?” she hears Vasir shout. “Do you know what you’re doing to the integrity of this car?” Another yank. Her hole’s large enough to crawl through, and crawl through she does. The other Spectre, blood-splattered and pale, stares at her. “You’re mad.”

“Only a little, Tela,” Nora purrs. “Do you know how much I _hate_ it when people try to kill my friends?”

  
\- - -

  
Liara’s watching the other car when a dark splatter appears on the window and it swerves wildly.

“Shepard?” Garrus says into his comm. Liara can’t hear the answer, but she can hear that there is an answer. “Vasir’s no longer a problem,” he says quietly, hand dropping to his side. After a second, he begins picking at his talons, his mandibles still and mouth set.

Krios starts whispering something. It’s quiet enough Liara can’t catch much. But she catches enough to know it’s a drell prayer. For Vasir, or for Shepard, she doesn’t know.

They land at the parking lot closest to the police station. Shepard crawls out of Vasir’s shattered car, stained with asari blood and wild-eyed. Something about her grin crawls up Liara’s spine. This — this is not _her_ Shepard. It is not the woman who stared down Dr. Heart and walked away from his body, firm but just. It is not the woman who stood before the Council, pleading vainly in hopes of saving even a few. A thought, entirely unwelcome and terrifying — _What if it wasn’t really Nora they brought back?_ With that thought, Liara peels out of the car and shoots toward the commander, her own mien wild, she’s certain. She doesn’t care.

“What in the name of the Goddess was _that_ , Shepard? You — I’ve never seen you do anything like that!” she spits, horror creeping through her as she thinks about how dangerous that really was. “And you just… executed Vasir? What —”

Nora’s snort and dry giggle unnerve her. “Don’t worry, Liara. I’ve been practicing. If I’d fallen, nothing bad would have happened beyond a crater in the middle of Ilium.” Her smile dims a little, goes dark. “And yes, I executed Vasir. Thane told me several of his contacts simply never returned from meeting with her. She endangered civilians.” She leans in, and whispers, “She tried to kill you, Liara. You think I’d let that go?”

Liara’s jaw draws tight. “I think you’re not the woman I remember, Nora Katherine Shepard,” she bites out. Startled, Nora withdraws and blinks at her. For a second, she swears she sees a red sheen over Nora’s eyes. “You took joy in your fights, yes, but…” she shakes her head. “Did you shoot her? Or did you rip her apart like you did that car?” _Not something I ever had to ask before_ , she thinks.

After a second, Nora opens her mouth, her brows furrowed. Before she can speak, Garrus’s drawl cuts in. “Perhaps you aren’t aware, but things have… well.” His mandibles flare. “We’ll fill you in on the way to the Shadow Broker’s base.” The turian sidles closer and slides an arm across Nora’s shoulders, gripping her upper arm. She looks up, eyes wide, and calmer than she’s been since that chase started. He leans down and whispers something she can’t hear, even so close —

She walks away. Her bones themselves still shiver after seeing that. It isn’t because of how visceral it was. She’s seen far worse. But that it came from Shepard?

  
\- - -

Kasumi comes through. Just after Vasir’s body is handed off to the police, with plenty of ‘I’m a Spectre’ lube applied to everything, Nora’s omnitool pings. She opens it, reads it, and nods. “They’ve decoded it. Off to the Broker, then?”

Garrus watches her on the way back to the Normandy. Slowly, very slowly, she calms down. Her heartbeat was still thundering in her chest the entire time they were at the police station. Normally, it’s not something he pays attention to. But she smelled off — still does. He knows the scent of human _hunfa_ , the thing they call ‘adrenaline’, and he knows what normal levels of it are. When she crawled out of the car, it was like alcohol splashed into his nostrils. When they cross the threshold into the ship, he takes her elbow gently. “Nora?” he asks.

Another little spike of adrenaline. It’s half of what it was, but still acrid, and this little spike doesn’t help. But she turns to face him. “Yes, Garrus?” she says, looking up at him. “You know, your face is… fascinating.” She reaches up and caresses his mandible, her eyes still too wide, and… no. It’s his imagination. Her eyes aren’t pink at the edges, are they?

“I… thank you,” he mumbles, unsure of what to say or do. “You should go see Samara.” _And I should go find Miranda. **Now**._

  
\- - -

  
Old habits die hard. So Miranda’s biting her nails as she looks over a requisition form when Garrus slams into her quarters. “How much do you know about… whatever it is… Nora’s being dosed with?” he growls.

She blinks and rolls her chair backwards. “Enough to know it’s dangerous. Why? Has something happened?” His pause answers her question. She rises to her feet and reaches for her datapad. “If Kasumi helps me, I can get a little more access —”

“She… it’s like she lost herself out there, for just a minute,” Garrus mutters. His talons are shaking, she notes, as he raises one hand and passes it over his crest. “Maybe it’s in my head. But the way Liara reacted… I don’t know. It wasn’t like Nora. Check my hardsuit cams, or Thane’s. Maybe Shepard’s, if she left them on.”

Miranda bites her thumbnail. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting? After all, the commander is hardly for being predictable.”

He snorts. “There’s a difference between unpredictable and mad. Look at that footage. I’ll wait.”

Having him watch her makes her nervous, but she pulls up the video. At first, it’s nothing overly alarming. Reckless behavior in battle defines much of Shepard, at least since her resurrection. But when they enter the car, Miranda’s breath catches. She’s aware of how Shepard drives. There was a camera inside the Mako, set to film each of the ground missions. Even for Shepard, this is reckless. When the video turns into Shepard driving toward the police station, staring through a blood-stained windshield, she swallows and shuts it off. “I… I see.” She leans forward and lets her head fall into her hands. “It is… it _may_ be the drug. However, the dose would have to be incredibly high. It’s also possible the Red Sheen is negating the effects of the mental health implant Chakwas gave her.”

Nothing but silence for a minute. “That’s all?” Garrus asks, incredulous. “You’re going to say ‘maybe’ and… what? Let her go out and fight again?” His shadow falls over her desk. He looms when she looks up at him. “What if it gets worse? What if the Shadow Broker pisses her off, she loses her mind, and she dies, Lawson?” The closer to the end of the sentence he goes, the lower and more dangerous his voice gets.

Even the thought of such a possibility chills Miranda to her bones. It’s true Shepard _could_ be replaced. But she doesn’t want to replace the commander. “…I’ll come along on your outing and monitor her,” she says quietly, casting her eyes down again. “Even with Nora’s accelerated metabolism, there are some drugs which could have an immediate effect. If something worrisome happens… well. Better unconscious than dead.”

Garrus watches her for another minute, his gaze on the top of her head. She stares at her desk and regrets… quite a lot. When he leaves, she stands and goes to her bed. Beneath the mattress is a secret compartment — one specially commissioned to be unhackable and unbreakable.

Light glances across the bottle of violent fuchsia liquid as she removes it. “I hope I don’t have to use this,” she whispers as she retrieves tranq-style darts.

  
\- - -

 

  
Liara wanders the ship while they fly to Hagalaz. It’s different from her Normandy, _their_ Normandy, but not badly. Tali is in engineering, of course, and it’s wonderful to see her working on something Liara cannot decipher. She moves on, to the little window overlooking the cargo bay, and watches the spar below. The young krogan and Ashley don’t pull any punches with each other. Simply watching makes her heart ache a little. One hand rises to rest on the glass. The coolness beneath her fingers and the thrum of the engines behind her let her close her eyes and imagine herself back on the first Normandy.

Nothing was simple, then, but there seemed to be an end to things. Find Saren, find Sovereign, defeat them. Once she’d confessed feelings to Shepard, the little woman had taken to pulling her into dark corners for ‘consultation’. Liara never had hair to muss, but Shepard’s would inevitably look ruffled after. Ashley hadn’t been cybernetic. Kaidan had been there, with his dark eyes and easy manner. Wrex, too, she misses. How could one not? And —

“Funny, I’ve never found a spar to be a particularly moving sight, and I’m a turian,” Garrus drawls from behind her. Her back stiffens a little out of habit.

“Garrus,” she murmurs, turning to look at him. “It wasn’t the spar. It was the ship. Remembering the first Normandy…”

“It hurts, right?” he rumbles, moving closer. “I know. A lot of faces on that ship we’ll never see again. Even with the upgrades on this one… I wish we had the old one.” He leans on the small ledge underneath the window, watching the spar. “Most of the people here now aren’t bad. Just different.”

“It’s a shame…” she trails off and thinks better of her words. “It’s all a shame, really.” He doesn’t disagree. He just nods and watches the spar with her. 

She forgets to ask about Nora.

  
\- - -

  
Samara’s meditations always make Nora sleepy. So she’s dozing when EDI speaks to her. “Commander, our destination is less than five hours away.”

“Got it, EDI,” she slurs. She finally drops off the cliff a few minutes later.

Kasumi deactivates her cloak when she’s certain the commander’s asleep. “Seems normal enough for now,” she whispers into her omnitool. Miranda nods at her. The program shuts down. Kasumi sits and monitors Shepard until they reach Hagalaz. The only thing out of place is how much the commander tosses and turns.

  
\- - -

  
Shepard hears about five words of Liara’s explanation of Hagalaz. She’s pressed to the window in awe of the lightning storms. She vaguely notes Garrus chuckling and saying something. Miranda’s voice is in there, too. She’s almost sad when they land. Almost. Then she realizes it only gives her a better view of the majestic cloud banks and lightning strikes. The wind’s wild. Despite the stabilizers built into all armor, they still wobble on their feet as they move forward. “This is wonderful!” she shouts behind her, eyes dancing.

Before she turns her head, she catches Garrus grinning at her fondly. Her heart skips a beat, but she focuses in time to bat the maintenance drones away. A few more follow, but they’re interrupted by actual soldiers next. Not many, but some. She slings a singularity, perfectly in sync with Liara’s pull, as if they’d never parted. More than one soldier floats into the air. Everyone who loses their feet gets swept away by the wild wind.

“Hey, Joker?” she says into her comm as they creep along. She gets a hum in reply. “What’s atmo like down here?”

“Thin, but breath — hey, are you doing the no helmet thing again?” he demands. “That’s dangerous! Don’t do that!” She laughs instead of answering, pulling off her helmet and hanging it from her belt. It’s _wonderful_ to have her heavy braid whipping about, smacking her in the face. It probably doesn’t intimidate their enemies much, but that’s okay. They’re mechs anyway.

  
\- - -

Nothing seems like the challenge it used to. Even the larger groups of soldiers fall more quickly than Liara expects. Garrus has learned to spread his overloads across multiple targets, and they seem far stronger than they used to be. Always before, it would take him a moment to settle in and pick his shots. Now it’s bare seconds, and he rarely misses. If he gets any faster, she suspects he’ll be able to fire a sniper rifle like most people fire a pistol. Even when he switches to his assault rifle, he handles the gun so much more deftly — it’s unbelievable. Nora, too, has changed. Her breadth of abilities surprised Liara when they met, but none of them were terribly strong. Now the woman hurls shockwaves and singularities like cheap grenades, clearing her path with chains of explosions. She’s taken to favoring a submachine gun more than she used to, but it’s more of a distraction from her biotics than anything.

Miranda, she doesn’t know beyond… well. Propensity for skintight suits aside, the woman fights well, and easily slots into the madcap battling style Shepard favors. By the time they enter the engine room, or part of it, Liara’s nearly breathless. Once, after a battle like this, Nora would have dragged her back to the ship. She called it ‘life-affirming’. But Shepard is not hers any longer, and it is best that way.

They exit the engine room to the sight of at _least_ twenty, perhaps thirty, people charging towards them from the far end of the ship. They have the benefit of not going against the wind, so they’re moving very quickly. “Shepard —” she starts.

Nora’s already striding forward, grinning. “Give me some cover fire?” she asks Garrus. He nods and drops to one knee. Despite the request not being aimed at her, Liara sights down her pistol and starts firing anyway. Tunnel vision always overwhelms her in battle. Until her first target drops and she goes to choose another, she doesn’t notice the ungoddessly sound of metal shrieking.

“What —” _Oh_. The lightning capacitors aren’t far from them, but they’re still farther from them than they are the oncoming group. Right now, the metal spikes are leaning precariously, wrapped in a familiar blush of biotic blue-purple. “Do you need help? Are you straining yourself?” she shouts over the wind at Shepard.

Nora, braid flying around like it’s possessed, shakes her head. Her fists started above her head. Now they’re nearly level with her eyes. “Just… a little… more…” she pants. She yanks down. The shrieking crescendos. Preceded by a _thump_ , the buzzing crackle of released energy lashes out. They hit the deck. Their enemy follows, but it is too late for most of them. Air turning acrid with the stench of burning flesh leads Liara to gag. Those few still standing are wounded, and fall quickly. Nora laughs, breathless, and sprints ahead.

 _What has happened to you, Nora?_ Nothing in her communications, anything in the Normandy’s files, has told her of a change like this. The recklessness is not entirely new, but worse. Her cavalier attitude about death — again, not new, but worsened. And Nora was never this powerful before.

  
\- - -

  
Entering the ship, Nora whines, “Do we have to go in? It’s so pretty out here!” It’s the last moment of levity they have for a while. As soon as they’re inside, rockets start flying at them. Garrus explodes one with a neat shot. That single explosion catches two or three other rockets, turning the hallway into a veritable fireworks show. By the time the flames clear enough for another rocket to be launched, Shepard’s in front. She reaches out and twists her fist. The rocket turns, mid-flight, and sails back to its point of origin.

Liara wonders out loud, “What must the Broker’s expense account look like? There are so _many_ guards!” Garrus shrugs at her. He’s been wondering the same thing, but it’ll probably never be answered.

Every fight after that first one goes much the same: the guards, every one of them clearly well-trained, fall like _wraix_. (He said that to a human once. They replied, “The fuck?” It turns out humans have similar items called dominoes, but wraix doesn’t translate.)

Hacking a door open… it’s not a bad idea, but Garrus regrets it when the unique smell of charred drell flesh hits his nose. Faint, like burnt salt and hot air, not overwhelming like the vicious barbecue of the Broker’s agent outside. Only one drell, then, and only occasionally tortured. Liara steps past him, gun raised, and scans the chamber. Seconds later, she gasps and bolts. Miranda goes next, and Nora comes up behind them. Rather than following the others into the room, she leans close and taps her hip against the top of his leg. Were she taller or he shorter, it would be a cheeky hip bump. It’s still amusing. “Mmm?” he purrs, turning his head to her, mandibles flaring out just a _little_ in interest.

“Hi,” she whispers, eyes sparkling up at him. Then she walks on.

He stares after her, confused, but shrugs. Inside the room, a drell waits on a table, skin still faintly hissing from the electricity applied to it. “This chair… it plugs into the Broker’s info network. Pull me out now, and my brain fries. You have to shut off the power,” he explains, every word coming from cracked lips. Hearing those words — well. Garrus knows Nora. And looking at her, he can see the gleam in her eye that means, _They’re not winning this one._

When they leave, Feron warns them. “You know the Shadow Broker’s waiting for you, right?”

Nora turns toward him, grinning wickedly. “I hope so.”

  
\- - -

  
Here, where she’s not worried about Jack, or Cerberus secrets, Miranda quietly admires Nora. Her power pulses from her like breathing. Occasionally, she’ll catch T’soni ogling the other woman. She catches Garrus at it more than occasionally. All the turian’s concerns seem unfounded, though — until they ascend the stairs before the Broker’s chamber. One more merc waits. Shepard doesn’t even stop walking, batting him aside like a fly.

They enter a chamber, dark and foreboding, where a massive shape waits behind a desk. The shape says, voice no different than it was over the speakers, “Here for the drell?” Shepard and Liara both nod. “Reckless, even for you, Commander.”

Nora actually _giggles_. “You haven’t begun to see me reckless, Broker,” she sneers. It barely sounds like her. “Reckless is how I took out your pet spectre. Peeling back the roof of her car… getting to see her face as I did it…” Her grin’s unhinged. “But she was expendable, wasn’t she? Assets always are.”

“All she cost me was time,” it rumbles. “And Dr. T’soni. Your interference caused all this. Feron betrayed me when he handed you Shepard’s body. The drell —”

“The _drell_ acted on his feelings,” Miranda snaps. “Evidently _he_ had morals, unlike you. Selling bodies to the Collectors? Truly monstrous.” She sniffs. “Even if Shepard hadn’t come after you, someone was bound to.”

It hums. “Miss Lawson. Tell me, is your sister doing well these days? Has your father found her yet?” Miranda stiffens. “I may recruit her. After all, I am missing many of my agents… Or I could hand you to the Collectors. Their offer for Shepard still stands. And offering them the woman who stole Shepard?” It shakes its head.

Liara steps a little farther forward. “You’re confident for someone with no chance left,” she spits. “We’re taking Feron and leaving.”

It turns its head towards Liara. “You do have such fascinating companions, Doctor. And after all, Archangel’s bounty is still unclaimed.” It leans forward, just a little. “Do you think they’ll rip his mandibles off first, or his chestplate?”

Miranda catches Nora cringing. Then her fingers twitch spasmodically, and she stills. She watches the commander for a few seconds, Liara and the Broker throwing words back and forth. When it stands, her attention moves to the ‘yahg’, and she backs away. So does Garrus. And Liara. Shepard doesn’t. She stands stock-still. The Broker pauses.

“ _RRRRGH_!” it roars, slamming a fist into its desk and hurling one of the bits at them. Miranda rolls away. Shepard tosses up a barrier, and so does Liara. But Garrus — Garrus isn’t fast enough. The desk shatters on Liara’s shield and slams into him. His body flies across the room. Another roar tears itself from the yahg, blood-curdling and primal.

Nora’s shriek is what turns Miranda’s stomach. It’s wordless, anguished, angry — indescribable. A breath, and then the room descends into battle. The yahg charges Liara, who rolls away. Miranda empties her entire clip into its shields, and follows it with the strongest warp she can muster. Shepard’s hurling shockwave after shockwave, the energy pummeling the Broker’s shields. They fall quickly, all things considered. But then he freezes. Nora pounces, springing across the room on biotically charged feet, and literally _leaping onto the Broker._

“It’s kinetically based,” Liara starts. Miranda holds up a hand.

“Shepard’s destroying it, whatever it is!” she calls back. There’s already deep black blood leaking down the yahg’s face. It roars again, trying to pull Shepard off, but she’s already flipped away. Miranda catches a glance of the woman’s face. Her eyes are gleaming, bright with bloodlust and anger, and… no. _They aren’t pink, are they?_

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Nora purrs in a sing song. The yahg, enraged even further, bellows and charges her. Shepard giggles and rolls to the side, barely dodging. Giggles, maniacal, high-pitched, echo off the ceiling. “What’s the matter, Broker? Lost your touch?”

Liara glances at her, a split second after hurling a warp to coincide with Miranda’s singularity. They explode together, killing the Broker’s shields again. He activates his fail-safe. Again, Shepard leaps onto him and begins slamming her fists into his face. Alarm’s written all over the asari’s features. “Shepard! Keep him there!” she calls, reaching out and shattering the skylight with her biotics. The Broker doesn’t notice, busy raising his shield to try and bash Nora off of him.

“I don’t think she can hear you,” Miranda mutters. “Do it!” Practice couldn’t make it better. Miranda yanks back as Liara pulls down. Shepard flies off the Broker just in time. Seconds later, he’s vaporized. Nora’s body, as heavily armored as always, slams into Miranda, knocking them both down. Rolling to her front and pushing herself up, “Nora, are you alright?” No answer. “…Nora?”

She turns her head as she stands. Shepard’s already on her feet, halfway across the room to where Garrus lies, unconscious. Once there, she drops to her knees and begins mumbling incoherently. Even from here, she can see the way the commander’s shaking. A knot forms in Miranda’s throat as she touches her comm. “Joker. Get… I need Chakwas and Mordin ready. Immediately.”

 _Something’s gone wrong. **Very** wrong._ Liara’s beside Nora now, trying to pull her away, urging her to call the ship. Nora just spins and snarls at her, her eyes wide, teeth bared.

After all that, firing the tranquilizer dart is anti-climactic. Even if watching Nora sink to the floor unconscious hurts.

  
\- - -

  
Jacob’s relaxing in the mess hall when Chakwas comes striding through, face like thunder, and Mordin right behind her. He watches them go, but doesn’t take it as unusual. They’re always off on one tangent or another about science.

 _Ding_! The elevator disgorges a turian’s limp body, levitated by biotics, a malnourished drell, and… “Shit. What happened?” he asks, shooting to his feet.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Miranda snaps at him as she exits, one hand out as she maintains the biotic field Nora’s wrapped in. He watches them go and makes a mental note.

_Boss’ll think this is interesting, whatever it is._

  
\- - -

  
In the harsh light of the med bay, Miranda explains frantically. Chakwas pulls back an eyelid. Indeed, a pink sheen films Nora’s eyes. It’s little more than what might result after a bad night’s sleep, but it’s enough to alarm considering the circumstances. Everything blurs as they strap the commander down and insert intravenous lines. Karin goes to the back and pulls the synthesizer up front. Mordin raises a… Well, he makes a facial expression. “The stocks of human blood may be tainted. For whatever reason, nearly everybody on this ship is A-, O+, or a B. Nora and I are both the only A positives. Rather an acceptable loss if the doctor develops biotics after a transfusion, hm?” she explains.

“Ah. Yes. Synthesizer makes skin, blood, muscle… used for many. Impossible to successfully taint without discovery chance being unacceptable,” he agrees.

Pale, spattered with black blood, the commander is remarkably still. “…why is she unconscious?” Karin asks.

Miranda clears her throat. “When we tried to pull her away from Garrus, she… wasn’t responding well…” Liara takes over.

“Garrus was injured during the fighting. After the Shadow Broker was taken care of, she wouldn’t let either of us near him, and almost attacked me outright,” Liara says, cutting straight to the chase. Karin blinks at her.

“I see,” is all she says, turning away. That doesn’t appear to be enough for Liara.

“What in the name of the Goddess is going on here?” she demands. “I thought I knew what was happening on the Normandy. And here I am, come to find Shepard acting like a madwoman, and everyone seems to know why save for me!” Glancing over her shoulder, Karin sees the asari has planted angry fists on her hips.

This time, Miranda cuts to the chase. “Under orders from the Illusive Man, I drugged Nora with an experimental drug —”

“You _**what**_?” Liara explodes. Miranda goes on without pausing.

“— developed from red sand. The drug, which is called Red Sheen, permanently augments biotic powers. However, like red sand, overdose is possible. It would seem the Illusive Man worried about my loyalty. After recent events, I thought Nora did not need dosing any longer. But there is someone else on the Normandy dosing her.” Miranda crosses her arms. “Now you know. I’d appreciate not getting slaughtered, if you please.”

Karin taps another setting on the synthesizer and glances over her shoulder. Liara’s standing in the middle of the med bay, fists clenched, as she fumes. “I cannot believe this!” she finally sputters. “How — how —”

“I have a miniature quantum entanglement communicator, given to me by the Illusive Man himself,” Karin’s new favorite Cerberus operative says. “Without that, my communications would have been prey to your spying just as everyone else’s.” After a minute longer, Liara throws her arms in the air and stomps out, leaving them in peace.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus wakes up with a headache. A bad headache. Opening his eyes only rewards him with a stellar view of the med bay ceiling. He groans, pushing himself up onto one arm, and nearly falls back down when someone speaks. “Morning, sunshine,” Nora croaks. He turns his head, muscles stretching with the movement, to find her in the bed beside his.

“Why are you here?” he grumbles back after clearing his throat.

The wobbly smile tells him something’s gone wrong. “Miranda… she said the other mystery person has been overdosing me,” she mumbles. “It made me go a bit wild. They replaced about 60% of my blood to help with it.”

He doesn’t know what to say for a minute. Then he sits up a little farther and says, “I’m sorry.” She blinks at him, clearly confused. His mandibles flare, just a little, and he explains. “I knew something was wrong. I… didn’t want to impede you helping Liara, though, so I didn’t make you go to Chakwas.”

More blinking at him. “Garrus, why are you apologizing —”

“You could have gotten hurt!” he snaps. She leans a little farther away, clearly taken aback. “I… if I’d said something…”

“I would have ended up going anyway,” she tells him quietly. “Did you forget the part where I’m a stubborn bitch?” He laughs. And then, unexpectedly, she swings her legs over the side of bed. “Can I…” she hesitates. “You’re warm, my feet are cold, and I’d like a distraction right now. Do you mind if I sleep in your bed?” Nora’s words are so quiet he barely hears them.

In response, he scoots over and pulls the sheet back. Her answering grin is warm, and makes the headache slightly less noticeable. “If you could retrieve some painkiller, though…” A minute later, the acrid tang of _gil_ melting on his tongue starts taking the sting out of the ache. Nora, crawling into his arms and curling up against his chest, takes away more of it.

A few minutes later, she mumbles, "Sure you haven't changed your mind yet? Even after seeing me in a murderous rage?"

He laughs and drawls, "Only one? There's at least three more to go before turian culture says you're a suitable mate." Nora giggles, effusive and happy, and he tightens his arm around her. 

 

\- - -

  
_Sir,_

_It was increased as you commanded prior to the… excursion… onto the Reaper. However, the Commander received some sort of news which sent her to Ilium. We’re on our way back from... Hilgaliz? Doctor T’soni is on board._

_Most likely due to the suddenly increased dosage, Vakarian and T’soni noticed something was off. Sir, they know about the drug. Shepard was given an immediate massive blood transfusion._

_I’ve already reduced the dosage. I know you didn’t order it, but I did review footage of what happened on Ilium and in the field to shake her ground crew so. I believe increasing the dosage so drastically, and keeping it that way, would drive the Commander entirely mad._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edited because I put the wrong draft of the letter at the end. 
> 
> Sorry this took so long. I have a lot of excuses, but not many answers. Hopefully the length helps make it better? I am, however, working on actually finishing this, so I can revise it muchly.
> 
> Again, criticism on anything and everything, but especially romantic bits, is appreciated.
> 
> I modified some of the LotSB content because some of it seemed really... eh. Despite running for her life, Liara had time to plant all this, etcetera? I also meddled with the Broker's taunting a little.


	17. Strange Aeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilium lets go of Shepard, and the Reaper comes to the forefront of her mind. 
> 
> But that is not dead that can eternal lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covers the aftermath of Shadow Broker and the Reaper IFF. 
> 
> I apologize for the long, long, looong wait. Explanations at the end.

_Ding!_ Joker, on his way to the elevator, looks down. “Liara? What’s she messaging me for?” he mutters, but opens it anyway. What she’s sent is a picture of the med-bay, one bed harboring a large amount of grey and blue turian wrapped around someone in soft, sterile white.

Her caption says, _It appears your literature paid off._

He whoops so loudly Cailin calls back from her seat, “I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to be sleeping, laddie!”

  
\- - -

  
Four hours later, the Normandy docks on Ilium again. Nora’s awoken by EDI softly chiming. “Wassup, EDI?” she mumbles, scrubbing at her eyes.

“We have landed, Shepard,” the AI tells her gently. “I thought you might wish to shower and see Dr. T’soni home. Dr. Chakwas will be here in a moment to check up on you.” More awake now, Nora opens her eyes. Dark grey plates greet her. Somehow, despite remembering what happened, it seems farther away right now. Garrus remains incomparably warm. And though she tries to make it a habit of curling up with friends to sleep, having his arms around her and being fully cognizant it’s out of untold fondness… it’s nicer than she remembers.

“Good morning, Commander,” Chakwas greets her a minute later, voice low. “As adorable as this is, do extricate yourself from Officer Vakarian’s grip, please.” Cheeks burning, Nora slowly wiggles out of his hold. He twitches, mandibles flaring, and murmurs something too low for her translator to catch. She doesn’t wake him, though, which was her goal. A vial of blood later, she stretches out on the imaging bed. Karin fusses with the blood as the machine moves around Nora. Evidently, everything is okay, since Karin comes to stand by her side after a minute. And when her datapad dings with the results of the scan, her brow doesn’t crease. “You look as well as you ever do, Shepard,” she murmurs. “Be careful about exertion, though. However you’re being dosed, it’s in your blood, and an accelerated heartrate may make it worse.”

Nora nods and shimmies off the table. Halfway out the med-bay doors, she stops. Then she pivots and tip-toes up to Garrus’s bed. Karin, now poking one of the machines by his bed, raises an eyebrow at her. Nora flushes again, but leans over and drops a light kiss on his good cheek, anyway.

(She doesn’t see, but it wakes him. He watches her leave with muzzy eyes, one hand pressed to his cheek.)

  
\- - -

  
Liara looks sharply at Shepard when the woman comes from the elevator, skin and hair both damp, in fresh civilian clothes. “Are you well enough to see me out, Shepard?” she inquires, very gently. “You —”

“Recover even more quickly than I used to, Li,” Nora stops her with equal gentleness. “As long as I don’t get pumped with more drugs out of nowhere, I should be fine.” Her eyes **are** clearer than they were… well. Liara’s ashamed to admit she didn’t pay much attention.

“Very well, then,” Liara mumbles. “Shall we?” Nora steps forward and offers her arm along with a smile. They stroll from the Normandy in soft silence. Despite the chatter of the crowd, their silence is restful. “I have missed this, you know,” Liara starts. Nora, startled, blinks at her. “You value silence so. Laughter, noise, all have their place. But few afford quiet the respect it deserves.”

Nora just nods, and says nothing, eyes cast up toward the towers. A few minutes more walk brings them to a taxi hub. They could have called one to the Normandy, but Liara still values exercise. Once the car’s off, she turns her eyes toward her companion and continues a conversation not meant for other ears. “I do not have many other sources I have not already called on, but I do have a few. I shall try to have some of them ferret out this…” She sniffs derisively. “…cretin which nearly caused you to lose your mind.”

“No.” It’s the first thing Shepard’s said since they left the Normandy. “Let it be, Li. If they want to dose me, let them. Let them see just how fragile their commander is.” Her fingers, on her knees and white-knuckled, catch Liara’s attention. “If the Illusive Man wants the best me, he’ll know he needs to lay off.” She turns her eyes on Liara for a second. “Besides, what could your sources do? Whoever it is _has_ to be on the Normandy.”  
  
“But I —”

“ _No_ ,” she says again. It’s the Commander Shepard voice, the one which gave Liara tingles the first time she heard it outside of battle.

She obeys.

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed sits back and sips his coffee. Jack and Kasumi, with the air of the enterprising, sit about the security. He’s watched the video they brought twice now. Or, rather, there’s two. One from Shepard’s hardsuit, with footage from Ilium’s security cameras patched in for extra context about the leap Shepard made. The second comes from Miranda’s hardsuit cam. “Well?” Jack prompts, when he just sips for a minute.

“Looks like none of my fuckin’ business,” he grumbles, standing. “I don’t —”

“Fuck that! Shepard’s my captain, asshat, that makes it my goddamn business!” Jack shouts, springing from her crate. “Maybe she pulled me out of Purgatory on orders, but she sure as fuck didn’t take me to Pragia on orders! And like hell she took you to where-the-hell-ever you went on _orders_!” She storms up to him and sneers up into his face. “Some dumbass decides to plug experimental damn drugs into her on the Illusive Shit’s orders, and it’s _not_ your business?” He raises an eyebrow and stares down at her. After a minute, in which her heavy breathing echoes around the room, she turns away. “And here I thought you weren’t a piece of shit,” she mutters, storming out.

Kasumi watches her go before unfolding from her perch elegantly. “I doubt Jack means everything she said. But…” She shrugs. “Shep’s a good person. If you decide to keep an eye out for anything, come to me.” With her enigmatic little smile, she disappears.

For a minute, Zaeed expects her to reappear. But the room is empty now of all save him and his cooling coffee. “Said it looked like none of my goddamn business, didn’t I?” he gripes to the air. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t keep any sort of eye out. Fuckin’ women.”

Two hours later, he goes to leave the room and go down to the shuttle bay. An ornately tooled holster rests in front of his door. He narrows his eyes at it and picks it up gingerly. Close inspection shows nothing wrong. Then his omnitool dings.

_Thank you._

He mutters about women for a solid forty-five minutes.

  
\- - -

  
With all his heart, Garrus wishes he could ambush Nora outside the Normandy and whisk her away for… something. Anything. But he’s still woozy from his head injury — like he needed another! — and they have other things to do.

He settles for polishing every piece of his armor to a high shine, subharmonics humming fiercely all the while. Jacob passes by, eying him, but says nothing. Samara, coming down to the bay to drop off her grenade belt for a refill, smiles serenely at him and leaves. Thane joins him in silence.

All in all, despite his headache, it is nice.

  
\- - -

  
Nails bitten to the quick, Ashley paces in the gun battery. Garrus is mercifully absent. Hearing Shepard didn’t need her along in the Broker’s base was a relief. As they hovered over Halgalaz, she’d devoured every bit of information in the datapad Miranda gave her. If it’d been bugged to report her reading it, Halgalaz’s wild weather would have ruined the signal to Miranda.

“EDI?” she asks.

“Yes, Operative Williams?” the AI responds, her blue orb popping up.

“Can you let me into Nora’s cabin? Please?” Ashley turns to face EDI’s avatar with a wobbly smile. “I need to talk to her.”

After a moment, the orb blinks at her. “I do not believe the Commander has anything particularly untouchable in her cabin at the moment. She has also allowed people to come to her cabin whenever they please.” Ashley raises an eyebrow. When EDI speaks, she sounds… oddly shameful. “Yes, Operative. Her door is unlocked.”

Forty-five minutes later, Ashley rouses from her thoughts as Nora’s door slides open. She’s spent the entire time curled into the luxe comforter. Even if her right side doesn’t register the heat and softness properly, it’s still nice. Shepard stops just inside the door and blinks at her. “Ash?”

“Nor?” the other woman replies with a weak grin.

“…you’re not up here to confess your undying love, or anything, right?” Shepard asks, striding across the room and flopping onto the couch. “I’ve had enough of that. Liara saying something was welcome. Kaidan, not so much.”

Ashley sees an opportunity and takes it. “Take it Garrus hasn’t talked to you yet, then?” she teases gently.

To her great surprise, Nora’s dark eyes go soft and a little smile curls her lips. “We’ve… had words, yes.” Shepard’s hands, formerly akimbo about her, draw in and run down her thighs as she mumbles, “That… wasn’t… well. It’s a long story, okay? But — we’re — he knows where we stand.” And then she turns her face away, studying one of her many notes on the walls. Ashley pretends she doesn’t see the dark color creeping onto the pale cheek.

“If you’d like, I can confess something. I mean, I _was_ the person who snuck lightening powder into the shampoo in the men’s showers on the first Normandy. That’s a pretty decent confession, innit?” Ashley rambles gamely. “Or if you’d prefer, I can confess love to you like my first boyfriend confessed to me. Christ’s crispiest crackers, that was —”

The longer she rambles, the straighter Nora’s spine goes, and the less mirth remains in her expression. Finally, she interrupts. “Ash, what’s wrong?” she says, very softly.

Even so softly, the words hit her like a singularity to the gut. “I…” She lets her hands drop and studies them. Both work perfectly well. One of them is metal, and covered in fresh-grown skin. The other still has the scar from she became blood sisters with her old best friend. “I…” She breathes out and looks up into dark eyes filled with concern. “Miranda helped rebuild me, too. S’not that big of a deal.” Bile rises into her throat. Most of the missions she was sent on after her resurrection have been redacted. She doesn’t want to think about what she could have done. But after a minute, she presses on. “The Illusive Shit gave her you and had me shipped off elsewhere. Miranda gave me… everything she could find about that, and the people, and where it was.”

Nora — God bless her strange little head and heart! — nods. “Where is it?”

  
\- - -

  
Jack sits in Joker’s seat and watches the brown dwarf of the Hawking system grow larger. When they’re just outside the gravitational pull of the star, Cailin eases ormandy to a stop and looks to Jack. “An' here we are, right up on the arse of a star. Would you care to go find Joker and tell him we’re here? I’m not going to say I’m a bad pilot, but I’m no whiz kid, and getting that close… I’ll let the arrogant tit have it.”

Undignified laughter brays from Jack as she swings her legs off the armrest and to the floor. “I love your fucking accent,” she tells Cailin. “’Arrogant tit!’” she mumbles to herself with a vain attempt at Cailin’s brogue. By the time she reaches the elevator, it’s almost passable.

Once inside the elevator, EDI speaks. “Jack, the Commander will be taking you along onto the Reaper. Please prepare yourself. I will pass your message on to the flight lieutenant.”

“What?” Jack protests. “You mean I don’t get to call him an arrogant tit?” EDI hums, and it just _sounds_ like a no. “Shit! I was looking forward to that! And why does Shepard need me along on this fucking freakazoid corpse run, anyway? What’s she expect in there?”

If EDI were a person, Jack’s pretty sure the AI would be rolling her eyes. At least, that’s the way she sounds when she replies with, “Most likely, heavy resistance. I’m sure the commander will supply you with more details.”

EDI’s words are clipped by the elevator stopping and the doors sliding open. Jack starts forward, sure she’s about to be spat out in the cargo bay — but then she stops. The wrong side of the elevator’s open for that. Instead, Shepard comes into view, and — “Jesus, the fuck’d you do? Spar with Grunt?” Jack asks in amazement, stepping closer and helping the commander hobble into the elevator. And it’s real hobbling. Shepard resembles an old woman, the way she’s bowed over with her hand on the base of her back.

“No…” Once in the elevator, Nora leans against the wall. The relief in her face makes Jack look away. “I’m pretty sure it’s just — related to my rebuild,” she says, averting her eyes. “I’ll have Miranda look at it after the mission. For now, I took the biggest dose of painkillers possible. They should kick in soon. Until then, you get a sneak peek at cranky Shepard.” She half-grins at Jack. It turns into a grimace as the elevator starts.

For all that she rests against the side of the elevator limply, when it docks in the shuttle bay, she takes a deep breath and stands upright. When they exits, Ashley, Grunt, Garrus, Zaeed, and Tali are all strewn about, some half-armored, others fully-armored and preparing their weapons. “…so I’m going to take a guess you’re expecting some shit to go down,” she says to Shepard as an aside.

She nods and explains, very quietly, “Plus, people to take up my slack if the pain doesn’t subside.” Jack’s mouth thins, but she nods. And then she sees Garrus notice them. Already armored, his eyes had been on his… whatever that damn sniper thing was… until Nora spoke. Now his eyes rest on her, and he strides towards them, mandibles in a little closer to his face than usual.

“Nora,” he greets her, voice a low hum Jack barely hears as he comes up on them. Something in his eyes makes Jack step away. But she can’t help paying attention.

“Garrus,” the commander returns, her voice softer than Jack’s ever heard it.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Silence for a second, and Jack glances over to see he’s placed one hand on Nora’s shoulder. “If it’s… you know… I can lead this. You don’t need —”

She brushes him off with an easy, “I’m _fine_ , Garrus. My back hurts. That’s all.” She leans closer, going onto her tiptoes, and whispers to him. Jack doesn’t hear. She doesn’t even try. Watching feels oddly voyeuristic. Sex is one thing. Any kind of tenderness still gives her nausea more often than not.

Samara exits the elevator a moment later, humming something soft. Jack recognizes it, and turns to the asari. “That’s the thing you like singing during meditation, isn’t it?” she asks when the justicar stands an arm’s length away. Waiting for an answer, she reaches for her legplates and buckles them on.

“Yes. It is the Grand Prayer to the Goddess,” Samara answers. “Many justicars use it to orient themselves. I have used it as such, but in some cases, it serves as a battle hymn.” Jack looks at her and opens her mouth, but the asari’s already anticipated the question. “If you mean to ask why I sing it as a battle hymn now, put this into your mind. If we are truly to enter into the corpse of some sort of machine-god, one whose ilk seek only the destruction of all life, then I think it well to invoke the power of the Goddess. Who knows what may await? Traps? Those turned to the will of this thing and its kind?”

“You’re going to make sure this thing’s destroyed after, then?” Jack asks, trying to reach the last seal on her breastplate. Samara latches it for her.

“Is there any other option? Even if it is harmless, those who inhabit this galaxy are not. The batarians… the krogan… the turians… even my own people would seek this corpse and its secrets. The Goddess will give me the strength to do what must be done.” Samara smiles faintly before her face goes calm and serene. “She always has.”

Jack frowns, and starts, “But what about —” Abruptly, the ship lists to the left and rocks. Samara doesn’t even wobble, but Jack nearly loses her feet. Around the bay, more than one person trips and stumbles. Swearing fills the air. Most of it’s Nora.

“What in the _ever-loving fuck_?” she snarls, swinging around and sprinting for the elevator. Jack follows, and so does Garrus. “What’s with all the chop, Joker?” she bellows as soon as they spill out into the CIC. “Thought you were a good pilot!”

“Doing my best!” he snarls. Even with her limited flight expertise, Jack sees the strain on his face as he manually steers the Normandy. “Solar winds are gusting at 500 kph!”

“If I’d never flown, I’d call you a smartass,” Nora deadpans, clinging to the back of his chair as the rest of the ground crew emerges from the elevator.

Amid stumbling steps and more swearing from the ground crew, Joker says, “Bad news first. There’s a second ship alongside the Reaper. It’s not transmitting any IFF, but the ladar paints its silhouette as geth.” The commander groans and lets her head drop to the back of his chair. Jack can’t help her snort. “Good news is I think the Reaper’s mass effect fields are still active!”

“Guess that explains what happened to _that_ Cerberus cell,” Jack mumbles, clinging to the arm of Cailin’s chair as the ship shudders again. And then — it stops. The ground beneath her feet doesn’t buck and roll any longer. “Thank fuck.”

“All hail the mighty fuck, who delivers us,” Garrus drawls, stepping up behind Nora. “Eye of the hurricane, huh?”

Grunt and Tali show little interest in the view, one more eager for blood and the other for technology. Zaeed, Samara, and Ashley all stand looking out the Normandy’s view windows for a moment. Then, entirely straight-faced, Zaeed mutters, “I think I’m goin’ to need a whole lot fuckin’ bigger boat.”

  
\- - -

  
When they step onto the Reaper, Nora’s back explodes with pain. Even through the numbing influence of her painkillers, it’s like a string of cherry bombs going off all along her spine. “Holy shit,” she exhales. Nobody’s close enough to hear details, although Grunt hears something and casts a look at her. Since the Rite, his senses have grown even more acute than they were before. Before they’re even fully out of the docking tube, Ashley, Grunt, and Garrus all wrinkle their noses. Ashley even takes a step back.

“Jesus H, the fuck is that smell?” she spits.

“Smells bad,” Grunt remarks, very accurately, as they exit the tube. A body lies on the floor in front of them, surrounded by a pool and subsequent smears of blood. “It’s blood… but something’s wrong with it.” Tali leans down and scans the body. Nora, trying desperately to ignore the way every step feels like landmines beneath her, inspects the body visually.

“I’ve never noticed geth getting into the habit of toasting bodies before,” she remarks. Tali nods, standing and reading from her omnitool.

“DNA scans indicate human male, age approximately 42. Cause of death… not fire. My scans are inconclusive. I can’t detect any bullet holes, but there’s a great deal of blood.” Ashley, nose wrinkled so hard it’s nearly pressed into her skull, picks up one arm and inspects it.

“That’s why.” She drops the arm and moves to the exit of the room. “Self-inflicted wounds. Don’t want to know why.” Nora grimaces, but they move on. The next room offers nothing but computers and safes Tali gaily hacks. A video speaks of an airlock, and an oppressive atmosphere.

“Reapers,” Tali scoffs. “What made them think even a dead Reaper wouldn’t have defenses in place? What made them think this thing is _dead_?” She looks around her and shrugs. “I can’t say I’m not curious, but I won’t be living here and studying it, either.”

Another video, a little further on, speaks about how the head scientist ‘listens’ to the samples. Jack and Zaeed snort in unison. “Listenin’ to little fuckin’ bits of corpse? Yeh, that’s sign number goddamn one you need to fuckin’ leave.” They all move on, all of them clustered into smaller groups, all on edge — and then the ship rocks.

Joker calls them almost immediately. “What just happened?” Nora croaks into her comm. It feels like the pain’s traveling up her spine and settling inside her brain.

“The Reaper just put up kinetic barriers — the kind I don’t think we can break through!” he says. Nora groans.

Garrus adds, “So we’re trapped. Wonderful.” And then he turns, gives her a look, and lets his mandibles flutter. Even with the pain fogging her mind, she reads that look as _we can revisit this ‘trapped together’ thing someday_. For the barest instant, her heart leaps, and the endorphins eclipse the pain. But it returns quickly.

“It’s okay!” Tali bubbles. “Even if the guns won’t work to get us out, there are options. Kinetic fields can only be produced by a mass effect generator. All we have to do is destroy the core, and the shield will drop.” She averts her eyelights. “…but the ship may fall into the sun without the mass effect fields around it.”

EDI chimes in over their comms. “At the moment of the barrier’s activation, I detected a heat spike in what should be the wreck’s core. Sending coordinates now.” She pauses and adds, “Tali’zorah is correct about the effects of destroying the core. The fields are maintaining the Reaper’s altitude.”

“So we destroy the core and hopefully don’t get burnt to a crisp,” Shepard grinds out. “Anything else to add?” Neither AI nor pilot replies. “Okay. Let’s make a sweep for survivors and research data. After that, we can knock this ugly piece of shit out of the sky.”

“Be ready to pick us up, Joker. Getting crushed by a brown dwarf isn’t on my to-do list,” Garrus adds. Joker, Jack, and Nora all roll their eyes, but they proceed. More burnt bodies await them. The space echoes with their breathing as they give a cursory exam to the bodies. They’re just like the first one, though all with slightly different self-inflicted wounds. Some remind Nora of ancient Japanese rites, others of more recent ways to… provide oneself an exit. They all make her stomach turn, and even though it distracts her from the pain, the nausea’s unwelcome.

Warmth and pressure on her shoulder eases the pain, just a little, and she looks up at the source. _Garrus. Of course._

“You okay?” he murmurs, mandibles barely moving.

Her reply barely reaches her own ears, it’s so quiet. “Yeah. Just… I was always too much of a coward to end my own life. This is why.” Tali sidles up next to them and peers ahead, clearly done with the cursory exam.

Ashley steps forward, humming a tune, and they follow. They don’t even make it down the ramp before the smell of rotting flesh and electronics overwhelms Nora. And if she can smell it — “Husks!” Ashley bellows, unholstering her shotgun and cocking it. “Let’s send ‘em all to hell!”

  
\- - -

Husks come from all corners. After the first wave, they proceed forward a little farther, and more come. Grunt’s having a grand time, smashing husks over railings and roaring like he’s in the WWE. Ashley can’t blame him. Husks, at least, you don’t feel bad about killing.

“Eat my _entire_ ass, you creepy fucks!” Jack roars, her shockwave dancing across the platform in tandem with one of Nora’s. The combined energy sends filaments flying as husks literally fly apart at the seams.

“Kind of kinky, Jack! Damn!” Ashley shouts, switching her heat sink and opening up on a particular ugly little group of husks. Slowly, they proceed down the walkway, the bodies of what were once humans flying through the air. “Christ, how many scientists were here?”

“Fuck if I know, Williams!” Zaeed replies, bashing one husk’s skull in as it grabs for Tali.

As Zaeed turns and lashes out with a spray of bullets, Ashley uses her shotgun as a bludgeon to knock away more grasping hands. She rights the gun in time to land two headshots, and — the damn things explode. Ashley, in the front, barely dodges the fireball. It takes out two other husks and leaves the floor scorched. “FUCK ME!” Ashley splutters, just as another one laced with red wiring instead of blue lunges for her. “Shit, shit, shit! Keep the red ones at range! They detonate on destruction!” she shouts into her comm.

“Roger!” Nora’s tight reply comes first, followed by other affirmations. Before the wave of husks end, three more explode. One gets too close to Grunt and sends the krogan stumbling for a second. But only a second. Dark blood drips from his nose as he rights himself, grinning wickedly.

“Ha! More!” he bellows. “If this whole ship carries on like this, it’s going to be a glorious battle!”

Garrus does… some kind of turian-sounding shit at Grunt. “I wonder if husks breed,” he mutters, stalking ahead and peering over the railing into the depths of the ship. “Why would Cerberus send so many scientists to one location?”

EDI’s soft voice comes over their comms a second later. “If you will give me a moment, I may be able to access the database the scientists used. It will tell me approximately how many scientists were here.”

Nora clears her throat. All of them turn to look at her. Her face seems oddly drawn and pale, but she motions them on. “I don’t know what kind of protocols Cerberus runs with, but they may… if they thought they were losing their minds, they may have brought in both mental health professionals and reinforcements for themselves.” She takes a deep breath. Ashley, listening closely, hears it hitch.

Wh _at’s up with that?_ she wonders. Out loud, she says, “Yeah, that’s believable. Although they should probably have seen a mental health professional before they decided to sign up for a human terrorist group.” The only person who doesn’t snort or giggle is Nora. _Okay, yeah, something’s up with that. Normally crazy jokes are right up her alley._

Tali, slightly ahead, turns from another terminal. Despite her exosuit, she shivers. “This is eerie. No matter the technology at stake, the quarians would withdraw as soon as scientists started making complaints of this nature. Especially if they were independent and corroborating.”

They tromp on, discovering more burnt and disfigured bodies ahead. And then, just as Ashley is about to step into an open area, a bullet zips past her. A second, only slightly different in trajectory, follows. “Sniper!” Ash yelps, going down to one knee and preparing her shotgun. All she sees is two dead husks to her left, sprawled across stairs.

“Couldn’t see the shooter,” Garrus adds, creeping forward. “A survivor? Is that possible?” No more shots come, so they creep around the corner. Two stairways await. They split into two groups, Ashley and Zaeed at the front of one, Grunt at the front of the other. They all tense up at the bottom, prepared for an attack. Nothing comes. But there is another console. Ashley listens to the recording. When it finishes, the shudder’s almost unstoppable.

She starts, “Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulu…”

And Nora finishes it. “R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.” They share looks. Even through the whiteness of her face and how gritted the other woman’s teeth are, Ash reads the same conclusion in her eyes. “This Reaper isn’t dead,” Shepard mutters, turning and stalking towards the railing at the far end of the chamber.

Then she collapses, just as the eerie moan of husks echoes through the ship again.

  
\- - -

  
She doesn’t know what to call it. Pain isn’t a strong enough word. Agony doesn’t _begin_ to approach it. Her every thought feels like it’s being shredded. Around her, she’s vaguely aware of screaming, and maybe gunfire. Her knees sting from hitting the ground so hard. She focuses on that, tries to push away whatever’s in her thoughts —

 _ **YOU ARE NOT AS US. WHY DO YOU SEEM SO, FRAIL ORGANIC?**_ shudders through her thoughts like an earthquake. When it happens, she receives the image of a massive entity, much like one of the Lovecraftian horrors she remembers reading of. This one, though, is metal. Where a human would have a head, it has a mass of serpentine loops — tentacles, perhaps. Rather than human-esque arms, it sports long appendages that end in tentacles. The rest… her comprehension fails her and she pushes the image away.

 _I don’t know! What do you mean?_ she throws back. Detached, she watches her hands go towards her own head and cradle it. It’s more like a reflex than a movement. Something flickers in her when she sees her own blood drip onto the floor. It dies quickly.

 _ **I FELT YOU, AS I FEEL OUR KIN. THE SENSATION YOU WOULD CALL ‘HOPE’ SEEMED TO COME TO US, ORGANIC. BUT YOU ARE NOT AS US. WHY HAVE YOU COME? TO TORMENT US WITH YOUR ‘HOPE’?**_ Her thoughts, again, give her the sensation of that Thing.

 _I came to take a piece of you for my own reasons, THING! I don’t know why I ‘seem as you’!_ she screams inside her mind. Despite trying to force words past her lips, none come. The shadow of her body, kneeling, clutching her head, grows darker. The puddle of blood grows closer. _That’s odd._

 ** _YES… WE CAN SEE THIS IN YOUR PROCESSES, ORGANIC. YOU HAVE COME TO ROB OUR BODY, IN ORDER TO STOP OUR KIN._** IT pauses, long metallic arms reaching out to her like the tendrils of some aquatic creature. _ **YOUR PROCESSES ARE STRANGE, ORGANIC. NO ORGANIC WHO CAME BEFORE COULD CONVERSE SO EASILY WITH US. WERE WE WHOLE, YOU WOULD BE A TEMPLATE FOR THE NEXT OF OUR KIN. WE ALWAYS SEEK TEMPLATES.**_ Rather than using words, she sends an image, an idea of what she thinks of that. Strange, mechanical sounds like thunder but unlike it, too, roll through her thoughts. Then she receives one back. It’s stronger than the impression of the IT.

Strangely, she understands what it means. Revulsion makes her shudder at the idea of understanding the Reaper’s communication system so easily. The picture of herself, thousands of kilometres high, metallic and _different_ , comes into her thoughts. It’s a ship — but she knows it’s her. Her reply does its best to convey the human idea of Jack’s favorites: “eat my ass” and “fuck off”.

One of her own thoughts registers very dimly. _That’s a lot of blood._ A clawed hand comes into her line of sight. Then the world whips and changes. Garrus. Looking down at her. Mandibles flaring… or are they pulling in? Her vision’s not quite -

Someone else’s amusement trickles through her. And then, she understands. Her body goes limp as it’s released from whatever hold IT had. More of those mechanical sounds touch her thoughts, followed by a softer tickle. She knows where the IFF is now. Control returns to her limbs as Samara peers into her eyes and touches her pulse. “I’m… I’m alive, ‘mara,” she croaks. It tastes like metal. Less eagerly than Grunt did earlier, she reaches up and wipes her nose. “The… the Reaper definitely isn’t dead.”

“What? But it’s been here for a fuckton of years,” Jack spits, hovering nearby. “How the fuck could it be anything else?”

“Dead and non-functional are two different things,” she mumbles. Garrus helps her stand, her gait wobbling as she takes a step. “If the interface on your omnitool doesn’t respond, that doesn’t mean the omnitool is dead. Just not useful.”

“Shit,” Ashley and Jack both mumble. Garrus’s hand, already on the far side of her waist, squeezes her hip tightly for an instant.

“On the upside… I know something I didn’t,” Nora slurs. Then she spits and licks her lips. The next words are clearer. “It told me where the IFF is.”

  
\- - -

  
Zaeed can’t help it. When the announcement about going five days without a workplace death comes over the intercom, he loses it. Jack’s laughing just as hard as he is. “Shit! Five days?” she wheezes when they stop, their stomachs hurting from laughing.

“Fuckers probably couldn’t go five goddamn minutes, even if they weren’t all dead!” he laughs, moving forward just a step and scanning the room. Nothing appears, so Ashley advances, followed by Grunt, and then the others. He brings up the rear, watching carefully behind them —

and more husks pour from every corner available. This time there aren’t as many. It feels more like a distraction than anything. At the last second, two of the husks flicker and their filaments turn red. “Giddown!” Zaeed roars, shooting at the one closest to him. “Get —” The familiar report of Garrus’s rifle, followed by a small explosion, tells him only one is a worry now.

Then another rifle reports. Twice. The second sound coincides with an explosion, and a second explosion coincides with the sound of ‘his’ husk going down. “Whose rifle was that?” Ashley asks, spinning and scanning behind her. “I didn’t —”

Garrus clears his throat and points toward the front of the room. They all turn. “Shepard-Commander,” a geth greets Nora, and Nora only. Tali snarls and raises her shotgun… but it’s already gone.

“Didn’t know Geth could talk,” Grunt grumbles. “Since it’s got you on a friends list, tell it we don’t need help.” Then he snorts. “I don’t, at least,” and stomps ahead.

Zaeed hears Garrus mumble something to Tali and Nora. The rest of them are out of earshot, carefully scanning the area. But no more husks appear until they advance down the walkway. Despite himself, Zaeed can’t help casting a wary eye at the open side of the ship. The brown dwarf’s _right there_. More blue and red filamented bodies appear a moment later, distracting him for a moment. In such a tight space with three biotics and several shotguns, the fight is barely that. A moment later, more, and more again. The only challenge comes at the end of the long walkway, when three grotesquely ballooned creatures stagger toward them.

“Fuckin’ slather the savior on a cracker, these shits don’t ever get prettier,” Jack mumbles, already pulling a mass effect field open between her hands. Zaeed hums. Samara and Nora, behind them, vibrate on the same frequency for a second. Three different shades of blue streak straight for the creatures, one knocking them off balance, another opening a singularity, and the third _blowing them to hell._ In that order. Balloons burst and leaking something disgusting, they stagger toward them still.

Once the bodies are on the ground, he turns to find Shepard with one gauntlet off. Her hand, wrapped in the solid black of her undersuit, trembles, pressed against her eyes. “This…” She swallows. Every muscle and tendon in her face stands stark for a second against her skin. Then she gulps again and pulls her hand from her eyes to look at them. “This is where we have to split up. I think. It’s hard to recognize the insides of the Reaper now. It remembers how it was before the Cerberus team came, and gave me… instructions… accordingly.”

One arm goes out, gesturing towards the end of the pathway. “That’s… that way will lead you to the mass effect core. The Reaper says there’s a piece of technology the Cerberus team thought was the IFF that way, too. It might be useful.”

Jack props one arm up on her hip and cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah? There’s only one path, Shepard. Where the hell are you going to go?”

Shepard stumbles, but moves to the nearest ‘wall’ and pats the mass of giant tentacular cords and fuckery. Zaeed catches a glimpse of fresh blood, dribbling from her nose. “Down.”

  
\- - -

  
Clinging to the thick cords proves more hazardous than Tali first thought. Her gloves slide across their material far more than she’d like. She almost loses her grip three or four times. Despite her own slowness, Nora’s the farthest behind. Looking down gives her a view of nothing, punctuated by Ashley’s dark head of hair. Looking up presents her with a prime view of both Garrus and Nora’s armored asses. “Any other time,” she mumbles and concentrates on her hands again. A nagging thought keeps circling around inside her head, though, and she finally calls out. “Nora?”

A grunt is what she gets in response, along with the sound of Shepard’s Alliance issue carabiner clinking. “What in Keelah’s name possessed the Reaper to just… give up the location of the IFF like that? What if it’s a trap? Or just a distracting lie to — to separate us, so it can pick us off?” Her eyes narrow behind her helmet as she considers that option harder.

Nora snorts and calls back, words still slightly slurred, “R-Reapers don’t lie. They… they communicate in concepts. How do you lie when you do that?” Tali looks up just in time to catch the dangerous slide of one foot. “Like… mind reading. But with machines. Geth don’t lie because they’re… in each other’s minds. Same thing. The reason it told me… boils down to something like, ‘the rebellions were fun to quash. I’ll send them some amusement.’”

Ash snorts and calls up, “Seriously? That’s like, classic bad guy motivation.” Then she starts speaking in an odd accent, words thick. “’Hey, I’ma send you to my man… my man Tony. He’s goin’ to love you. He’ll beat your ass, but he’ll getta kick outta it.’” The accent drops. “Did it say, ‘tell ‘im I sent you’? Cause I’m going to die if it did.”

Nora chortles. “A little bit, actually. It was more like… more like, ‘THEY WILL KNOW YOU HAVE BEEN TOUCHED BY THIS ONE.’”

Tali’s curiosity piques at that. “This one? Did it have a name?”

“It had… kind of a call-sign. Doesn’t translate well. The closest I can get to it would be ‘the smallest, become death omen to the greatest’.” Nora’s almost level with Tali now. Watching her still feels like a vid in slow-mo.

“Pretentious. And kind of odd,” Tali remarks. “I guess Reapers don’t really care about names, though.”

“Talking about names makes me think of baby Reapers. Now I’ve got this fucked up mental image of Sovereign in a tutu.” Ashley goes silent after that. Tali snorts first, and then Nora. Garrus just trills in confusion. “What? Do turians not have cute baby frills, mister mandibles?” More light trilling, this time less confused. Then Ashley says, quieter and more serious this time, “You know what’s really fucked up, though? Weirdest part of all this?” Tali pulls nearly level with Ashley as the other woman stops for an instant. “The big room… it was set up like a church. Every damn one of those scientists ended up worshiping it, didn’t they?” She can hear Ashley’s teeth grating against each other. “Worshiping a fucking sapient machine. I hope God _does_ damn these murderous metallic fucks.”

Tali doesn’t say anything. Garrus murmurs something in Teavikh. Wherther it low or high Teavikh, she doesn’t know, but it doesn’t translate. The word for spirits filters through, but nothing else. Nora hums and —

“Yeek!” Ashley yelps.

“Ash?” Nora shouts, dropping one hand from her hold on the pipes and swinging away to look down. “You okay?” As a result, she doesn’t see Garrus’s panic. Tali does catch her startled twitch when the turian’s hand clamps down over hers, though.

“I’m fine!” Ashley shouts back. “Just… almost stepped into empty space. Thought it was a trick of the light, but it’s long as hell, and almost as tall as Grunt.”

“Nora —” Tali starts, but Garrus beats her to it, whispering something to the commander in an urgent tone of voice. Tali hums and skitters down as quickly as she can to where Ashley is: hanging right above the empty space and eying it balefully. She stares alongside her for a few seconds. Then, very carefully, she activates her omnitool and sends Chatikka down the space to investigate it. While she waits for the drone to return, Tali tries very hard not to look down. All that’s between them and the brown dwarf is a thin metal skeleton. It wouldn’t catch a krogan fleet, let alone stop them from falling to their death. About the time Garrus and Nora get down to them, Chatikka’s auto-return protocol kicks in, and her data comes flooding back.

“Well, there’s definitely a floor!” Tali announces brightly. “And there’s nothing hostile… or, at least, nothing hostile to synthetics.”

“Comforting,” Garrus bites out.

Shepard’s snort sounds almost like her nose wasn’t bleeding ten minutes ago. “Very comforting, indeed.” She pauses. Then she abruptly drops down a little, letting her feet swing into the empty space. Another, slightly lower handhold has her dangling there — and then she swings herself forward and lands with a heavy _thump_! Her landing echoes. They all tense together, waiting for a response. Nothing. “Pretty sure this is where we’re supposed to sneak in, guys,” she announces.

  
\- - -

  
Garrus watches Nora as they creep forward. The space narrows the farther they go in, but it’s still many times larger than they are. And the farther they go, the stranger and stranger she looks. To be fair, they all look odd. There isn’t lighting here, not in the sense they’d use the word. The dull glow of the brown dwarf illuminates much, slipping in behind them and through minute cracks. This deep in the ship, there’s not many of those. “Studying a Reaper would be fascinating… if you could make sure it was dead first, and staying that way,” Tali murmurs. "I know I said I wouldn't stay on one. But think of the opportunities!"

Normally, Nora would have something to say here. But every step is more labored than the last. She doesn’t bother with words. When her feet start dragging, Ashley grumbles beneath her breath, but steps forward and slings Shepard’s arm around her shoulder. “Come on, Skipper. Little farther, and then we can get the hell out of here,” she encourages in a whisper.

“I…” Nora stops and inhales. Her next words are stuttered and slow. “The Reaper… in my head… I can feel it. Not… trying to hurt… just curiosity.” Garrus’s entire heart stops for a breath. It starts again, pounding more furiously than it ever has in combat, when Shepard’s breath skips. The scent of her blood tinging the air doesn’t help.

“I’m taking point,” he growls. No more do the words leave his mouth than he springs ahead, nearly sprinting. _The sooner we get to where we’re going, the sooner we leave._

Absorbed in his thoughts, he notices a second too late when the ground comes to a halt. Only the way the lighting changes alerts him. He skids to a stop too slowly. One foot goes out into a vast abyss. He loses his balance and nearly tumbles. “Garrus!” Tali cries. He’s never been so grateful for the three-fingered hand on his arm, restraining him. “Garrus, be more careful!” she scolds, pulling him back. “You nearly died!”

“Sorry. Got… distracted,” he mutters. Then he raises his head and looks. “Great Spirits,” he breathes, jaw dropped and mandibles wide. Before them is a vast, vast pillar, greater than anything he’s ever seen like it. It reminds him of the mass relays in shape, and for size, it seems to be the length of an arm of the Citadel. The pillar disappears into the distance, past anything his visor can focus on. What look like wires from here interlock and dance over the surface of the thing. Some flicker dark colors, barely visible, and others are bright, pulsating lights. They light the interior of the Reaper surprisingly well.

“Keelah…” comes from next to him. He’s too astounded to reply. But the _scrape-thunk_ of Shepard’s slow steps, followed by Ashley’s easy plod, pull him away.

They all stand in silence, staring, for a moment. “What a waste,” Ashley mumbles.

“It’s… it’s here,” Nora whispers. He looks at her, afraid, but sees what he knew he would. Blood pooled in the divot of her upper lip, some even dripping down onto her chin and dribbling down her neck. The chalky whiteness of her skin reminds him of human ‘albinos’. “The IFF…” she raises an arm to gesture and only manages a feeble wave. “Out there.”

Silence. And then, Ashley, “Jesus fucking Christ in a **fucking** starship! How the hell are we supposed to get over there? Flap our goddamn wings?”

Shepard inhales again. Then she looks directly at him, her eyes eerie and empty. “Garrus. Do me a favor. Step forward?”

He blinks at her and looks down. Still nothing but empty space. Tali’s grip tightens on his arm.

He steps, eyes closed.

No falling sensation assaults him. The drop doesn’t come. So Garrus’s eyes slit open, peering at his feet. Beneath them, a block of soft, indeterminate grey hovers. “What…?” Tali says for him.

“Maintenance bots… inside the…” Another weak gesture. “No wings. Reaper… Reaper wanted to see if I could summon them.” He looks back to see a hollow caricature of a smile. It seems more like human rigor mortis than the expression he’s come to know. “Can. It helping. But can. Go?”

They shuffle into a tight group. The blocks come, seemingly at Nora’s bidding, but with cost. By the time they’re halfway across the seemingly endless chasm, Garrus and Ashley both support her. Tali stays unencumbered, but every iota of her body languages screams nervousness. To soothe Shepard, he mumbles a bit of nonsense to her. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t bring Mordin?” Her response is the faintest snort he’s ever heard. But it heartens him, so he goes on. “I can hear him now. ‘Fascinating technology. Certainly interesting applications, yes, but would like to disassemble. Destruction great learning tool. Then could _reconstruct_! Possibility of reprogramming Reaper. Friendly Reaper huge asset.” He pauses, deliberates on his punchline, and delivers it anyway. “Might even scare krogan.”

Tali and Ashley, already chortling, burst into huge guffaws. Nora’s laughter is nothing more than a series of short exhales, but he knows it for what it is. The silence falls again, but it’s a little easier. The pillar looms as they approach. What appeared to be wires are now vast rivers of light and energy. “Lord Jesus, this is… fucking astounding,” Ashley says, almost as an aside. “What the hell are we thinking trying to fight shit like this, anyway?”

“Thinking… don’t know when… to quit,” Shepard forces out. Garrus glances down and adjusts her grip on his armor. From here, he can see the blood trickling down her neck slowly. She leans her head back and looks at him, lips curved in what could be a tiny, tiny smile. They’re bloodstained. He can see the crimson in the cracks of her teeth.

“Let’s get this over with,” he orders. He puses, realizing the commanding tone in his voice and harmonics, but doesn’t amend it. When he looks at Nora again, her smile seems a little wider. “Ashley, hold Nora.” They pause, there in the middle of the vast chasm. He lets the commander’s arm drop and, instead, kneels in front of her. “On,” he says, firmer this time.

“Whoa, are you sure —”

“On.” Then Shepard’s heavy weight settles against him. It’s almost dead weight, but not quite. Her arms drape around his neck on their own. He stands, slowly, and Ashley wraps Nora’s legs around his hips. One thigh brushes his waist. Even through the armor, and despite the situation, he shivers. He cinches one arm over her legs, and uses his other hand to lock her arms into place. “Bring up the blocks as fast as you can, Shepard. We’re getting this thing and getting back on the Normandy,” he orders. Clammy lips brush against the side of his fringe. Then blocks begin sailing to them in a cascade. Ashley’s the first to break into a sprint, hands tight on her gun. Both he and Tali follow.

Somehow, even knowing why Nora’s settled against him, her weight seems comforting. The steady _thump-thump-thump_ of her feet bouncing against his thighs as he runs settles his mind. Ahead, the great pillar looms ever closer until suddenly it’s there. In front of them. The pure darkness of its unlit spaces feels like light itself being blotted from their eyes. Incomprehensible lengths over their heads, the grandiose wire-rivers of color stream. And a door, small and simple, slides open for them.

  
\- - -

  
No sooner do they see Nora’s hands disappear down the pipes than noise alerts Zaeed. “D’ you hear that?” he breathes, shaking out his gun hand and creeping forward. Unsurprisingly, a husk creeps its way over the railing and moans at him. “Good goddamn. Your faces’re getting old!” he shouts at the dead body five seconds later.

And then, from up ahead, comes a far greater and grander moan. “You had to say something, didn’t you? Fucker,” Jack spits at him. Her excited grin belies her words.

“No matter. We are all skilled. Zaeed, do you mind if I assume temporary command until Shepard’s return?” Samara asks. Zaeed grunts, eyes only for his scope. “Very well. I appreciate it. Jack, please try to coordinate your biotics with mine as closely as you do with Shepard. While we have fought together, there is much more in you than many asari. I do not believe it to be a hard task for you. And Grunt —”

He’s almost vibrating with eagerness. “Yes?”

Samara pauses. The pause makes Zaeed look up. She’s got the most wicked smile he’s ever seen on an asari. “Give them to the Goddess.”

Grunt blinks. Then he grins back at her and charges up onto the bridge. A grotesquely ballooned arm comes around the corner and nearly sideswipes him. He roars at it and _tackles_ the thing. Zaeed snickers. As they follow the krogan up onto the bridge, he tacks on a posh accent and yells, “Give ‘im the old one-two!”

Jack laughs. Samara’s already alternating shots from her gun and biotic fields. Zaeed joins in, pouring as much hot energy as he can into the ugly fucker. Just as one balloon pops under his tender attentions, a second gurgle catches his attention. Samara beats him to the punch, though, with a shout of, “More enemies incoming, at our nine o’clock!”

“Someday I’m going to turn off this translator and learn some real fuckin’ Thessian,” he mumbles. “There’s no goddamn way you have the same clocks and military terms Earth does. I wanna know what you all really say.”

“Just say ya’ll!” Jack shouts back at him. “Shepard does it!”

He blinks and thinks and still doesn’t forget to fire his gun. _Has Shepard ever said ya’ll?_ The prompt answer is _who gives a good goddamn_ and he turns his attention back to liquefying technological zombies.

  
\- - -

  
Jack’s a sturdy bitch, but being in a dead ship that’s talking to her captain… yeah, that’s about as whack as it gets. “Aaand that’s forty-four husks to me,” she drawls as her last target falls.

“Only forty-four the whole trip?” Zaeed snorts at her. “Weak.”

“No. On this _bridge_ , old man. Can you keep up?” she snipes back. “You’re right, though. They really do all look the same. They couldn’t have put some lipstick on before they came out to die?”

Samara chuckles and waves them on. They walk almost a whole four meters without getting attacked. Then more husks, and more ugly bastards. It’s almost a chore by now. While they’re threatening, between the four of them, it’s too easy. All of their skills work in concert. Grunt makes sure nobody gets too closer. Zaeed watches Grunt and takes care of the flanks. Jack and Samara take care of mowing their enemies down like junkies on sand.

When they finally reach the doors, it’s more relief at the break from the monotony of killing than anything else. “This should be close to the core, if I remember correctly,” Samara enunciates. “EDI?”

“You are correct, Justicar,” the AI chimes in on cue. “There should be a short passageway after this door. Beyond that passageway is the housing for the core.”

“Hey, Zaeed and company,” Joker interjects just after that. “Shepard’s entirely out of contact now. I can’t raise her for hell. Same for Garrus, Tali, and Ash. I’m going to try to find their frequencies. Don’t get killed because I was distracted, okay?”

“Jeez, Moreau, didn’t know you cared,” Jack mutters into the comm. “We’re not going to die if you’re not perving on our suitcam feeds, okay? Chill.”

Her only answer is a disgusted snort and the woosh of the door. Inside, there’s a lonely monitor, accompanied by a… “Hell, if all we needed was a fancy motherboard, I’ve got about seventy of those laying around,” Zaeed says for her.

EDI precedes any further remarks. “This is what the Cerberus team believed to be the IFF. Please gather it, as I would like to run diagnostics to determine what led them to think so.”

“Maybe, just maybe, it was them living in the brain of some weird fucking machine, Eeds?” Jack snaps. “Let’s hurry up and find the core so we can leave.”

The next door opens, and — “Geth!” Samara shouts. They raise their weapons… but it’s only the single geth they saw a little while ago, fending off a horde of husks and interfacing with something. “Take them all!”

Grunt charges.

For his hard work, he gets repelled backwards. He comes very close to getting slung back through the door. Nobody says anything for a minute. Then Samara steps forward, hand out, and — “There’s a forcefield,” she exhales. “I might be able to tear it down with my biotics, but it’s composed from a very unusual substance, with unusual tech…no…”

“Oh,” Jack finishes for her. The forcefield’s fallen. The geth platform, finished interfacing, spins to shoot down more husks.

“Guess he’s on our side for now.” Zaeed follows the words with a stream of energy. Too late, though. One of the glowing husks gets too close. The platform slams into whatever he was interfacing with and goes inert.

“Flight Lieutenant, can you contact Shepard?” Samara asks over comms, in between shooting down husks. “We’re at the core now.”

“Nothing,” Joker’s frustrated voice replies. “I’ve gotten more out of broken ham radios made with _actual_ ham than I’m getting now.”

“We’ll hold as long as we can, Lieutenant, but the sooner she makes it here, the better.” Jack hears that much before more glowing husks hobble toward her. Then the ebb and flow of battle takes her, backlit by the enormous orb above their heads.

  
\- - -

  
Nora doesn’t know what to expect when they step inside the Reaper’s innermost sanctum. More pain, perhaps, might signal their entrance — but she’s in enough pain now that she can barely tell where they are. Her vision’s fuzzy. Her head’s throbbing. She can’t summon the energy to move any part of her body right now. Altogether, she feels entirely useless, perched on Garrus’s back.

But the _millisecond_ Garrus crosses the threshold, she knows. Pain so intense it turns her vision white overwhelms her. Then rainbows dance across the back of her eyelids. She feels her lips move. What comes out, she doesn’t know. But they moved.

And then, the pain begins decreasing. After a moment, her vision returns. She’s never been so glad to see the back of Garrus’s big, stupid head, and his stupid weird fringe. As she stares, her eyes bare slits, his head turns. “Nora?” he murmurs, something like worry in his undertones. (How she knows it’s worry, she doesn’t know. After a second, she just blames Cerberus.)

All the reply she makes — all the reply she can make — is a short, “Mrrt?”

“Are you seeing this?” he asks. She isn’t. So she looks up from his fringe. They seem to stand in the middle of a rainbow. Thunderous chasms of energy and light, constantly changing colors, rip past them. Somehow, none hit.

And then, It Speaks in its odd way. _ **HERE YOU ARE, ORGANICS. AND YOU, ORGANIC-WHO-IS-NOT. THE ORGANIC COMPONENT OF TRUST IS HEAVILY PRESENT IN YOU.**_

Nora’s hackles rise. “Do you mean you lied? Obfuscated?” The more pain recedes, the clearer her thoughts become.

The light ripples like a waterfall in response. _ **FALSEHOOD IS AN IMPOSSIBILITY FOR US, ORGANIC. OBFUSCATION IS NOT. WE DID NOT MISLEAD YOU, BUT WE DID NOT TELL YOU THE WHOLE PURPOSE OF BRINGING YOU HERE.** _ The shape of the thought-words, still impossibly metallic and inhuman, stop tumbling for a second. _**WE SOUGHT TO TEST YOU, HUMAN.**_

She hisses in response. And then, “Test me? Test me for what? Fucking herpes?”

Another pause. _**WE DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS, ORGANIC. YOU ARE AN ANOMALY. WE SOUGHT TO UNDERSTAND YOU. AS WILL THE OTHERS.**_

“What is there to understand?” she asks, quieter this time. It can hear her. She knows that. There’s no use in yelling.

Suddenly, the thought-words are all around her instead of inside her. _**YOU ARE BUILT WITH OUR BONES, ORGANIC. SOME FALLEN ONE, SCAVENGED, AND MADE TO SERVE YOUR FLESH.**_

Her entire thought process disappears. For a single, blessed second, her brain is entirely blank. Then it starts again. Her mind tumbles over itself and comes to a single conclusion: “Miranda.”

Now the thought-voice is inside her again. _ **WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT A MIRANDA IS, BUT IT IS NOT ONE OF US.**_ Another pause, and it is outside of her. _**PERHAPS THE MIRANDA CAME CLOSER TO THE TRUTH THAN WE EVER DID. YOU FUNCTION WELL, EVEN UNDER DURESS, ORGANIC.**_

“Shepard, you metallic fucking asshat! Stop calling her organic like she’s just… just a piece of meat!” Ashley suddenly shouts. “HER NAME IS SHEPARD!”

Silence. Then It speaks, outside her, and says, _ **NAMES ARE IRRELEVANT TO US. WE KNOW EACH OTHER BY OUR BEINGS. IS ‘SHEPARD’ THE MEANING OF THIS ORGANIC?**_

Nora, head still thumping, takes a second to process. Then she laughs, and calls out, “It’s not wrong.” Garrus tilts his head back toward her. Tali makes an inquisitive noise. “The word my name comes from… shepherd… it means one who leads the flock and keeps them from danger.”

 _ **NOT INAPPROPRIATE.**_ Despite being in their thoughts, the voice seems to drop a few decibels, and then it’s inside her again. _COME, ORGANIC. A FEW MORE STEPS, AND YOU HAVE WHAT YOU SEEK. YOU NEED NOT COME ALONE, BUT COME ON YOUR FEET._

So she taps Garrus on the shoulder. “Let me down, dear,” she mutters. The endearment slips out without her direct bidding. She’s not entirely sure why it does. But it’s not unwelcome. His back goes ramrod straight. This close, she can hear and almost interpret the soft _mrrrtttk_ of his subharmonics. He lets her down, slowly, and doesn’t let go of her arms until she’s steady on the ground. Even then, he shuffles around a little so he’s on her right, and doesn’t let his talons fall from her arm. She wipes her mouth, certain it’s bloody and gruesome. Her glove comes away just as crimson as expected. Nonetheless, she quirks her best half-smile at him, and begins walking.

Not three steps in, she runs out of room. More of the soft grey blocks come to meet her feet, this time without her bidding. (Or maybe with it. She’s not quite sure.) That question answers itself when the blocks curve away and begin heading towards the direct center of the Reaper’s heart. Garrus trails her, the hand still tucked into the bend of her elbow. She’s focusing too hard on staying upright to pay attention to Tali and Ashley. But they’re there. She knows it.

Without so much as a syllable from the Reaper, they proceed into its heart. Grand streams of light and energy whip past, hard enough to stir up a breeze. The breeze itself crackles with its own energy, making little frissons along Nora’s cheeks where her hair touches her skin. After walking, and walking, and walking, a little blot devoid of radiance appears in the distance. She squints, but there’s no more details she can make out. “Garrus?”

“Looks like some kind of room,” he answers before she asks. “There’s… it appears to be the source of all this energy. Lot of dead space, too, though.”

“If I focus really hard with my devil eye, it looks like… conduits?” Ashley adds in. Nora halts, blinks, and cranes her head to look at Ashley.

“Devil eye?”

Ashley’s ears twitch. Her cheeks go just a little red. “What? I thought it was a good name for a robotic eye. Especially considering it came from Cerberus.”

Garrus hums and nods to the tune of Tali’s giggle. Nora shakes her head and continues. Part of her wishes they had time to stop, to ponder exactly where they are, and how impossible it is that they’re inside a Reaper. The chromatic energy storming past even seems almost beautiful, save for that it powers a killing machine.

 _WE DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCEPT OF BEAUTY, ORGANIC, BUT WE UNDERSTAND THIS TO BE A COMPLIMENTARY THING. WE BELIEVE IT IS APPROPRIATE TO ISSUE A THANKS._ Something so mundane, in so horrifying a voice and odd a vernacular, is… spectacularly incongruous. Nora can’t help her giggle.

Garrus shoots her a look, full of concern for her sanity, from the corner of his eye. “Oh, you couldn’t hear that one?” she mumbles before speaking a little louder. “The Reaper… I was thinking all this is… a kind of pretty. It said thank you.”

“Finally some fuckin’ manners,” Ashley grouses. Again, the incongruity of the situation strikes Shepard. She can’t help the laugh, even if it does makes the throbbing in her head worse. Tali’s laugh comes first, though, and Garrus snorts. (Whether at them, or at the situation, she doesn’t know.)

“You’re all a bunch of loonies,” she sighs at them. “At least we match.”

They travel in silence a few minutes longer. As the mysterious grey box comes closer, it… doesn’t loom. Compared to everything around them, it’s tiny. True, it’s still three times taller than even Garrus, but the next closest thing in scale is twice the size of the Normandy.

  
\- - -

  
Grunt cackles as he flings another glowing corpse into the great orb over his head. “ _Perfect_!” he bellows, as it explodes squarely in the eye of the thing.

“Grunt, a little help?” Jack squawks. She’s sprinting around the edges of the room, gun trained on the half dozen husks following her. “I can’t hold still long enough to get a shot off!” He obliges by plowing into the husks, full speed.

Across the room, Zaeed and Samara are alternating attacks on one of the big, ugly bastards, as Grunt rips the arms from the husks. He keeps an eye out — but they kill it before he’s done. “Jesus H, deliver my ass,” Jack breathes, wiping sweat from her forehead. “I’m a fucking biotic, not a marathon runner.”

“Rest yourself!” Samara calls as she lopes towards them. “The core is open. We have a moment.” Jack thumps down on the ground unceremoniously.

“Where in the hell’s Shepard?” Zaeed grumbles, slumping against a railing in the center of the room. Grunt doesn’t care how long they fight. He does, though, wonder what his battlemaster’s doing.

  
\- - -

  
Much to Tali’s chagrin, Shepard steps into the… whatever it is… first. “You should have gone first, Ashley,” she grumbles out loud. “What kind of soldier are you?”

Ashley snorts. “The kind that doesn’t want to go into weird fucking places.” She shakes her head as they creep forward, both Garrus and Shepard inside now. “Seriously, when she saved you on the Citadel, did you ever think she’d be dragging you up the asscrack of a giant robotic killing machine?”

 _WE DO NOT KILL. WE REAP,_ comes from everywhere suddenly. It startles Tali badly enough that she leaps forward. Habit has her spinning, shotgun searching for threats. Ashley follows (with slightly more aplomb).

“If I could kick your shins, I would,” Tali declares to the ceiling of the room. Then she looks around. The inside of the room seems oddly dark, and dull, compared to the shimmering streams of brilliance outside. It’s not badly lit or dusty, surprisingly. But, save for the single circular protrusion in the center of the room, it appears empty.

Nora, warily, approaches the protrusion. “Is this it?” she asks out loud. “Is this the IFF?”

 _NO._ And then, the walls fall. Long panel after long panel collapses into the floor, revealing… there isn’t a word for what lies in the wall. Every panel holds a body. Though she immediately hunkers down and aims at the closest, nothing happens. A second later, she notices none of the bodies draw breath. The left wall, closest to her, stays so perfectly still she wonders if they’re robots.

But that’s impossible. The fluidity of their forms, the realness of their flesh… even for the Reapers, advanced as they are… “Impossible,” she breathes, and steps closer. The strange bodies in their cells don’t move. So she inspects them, full of wonder. Each seems unbelievably tall. Garrus towers over her, and these… they’re probably Garrus’s height and half again that. Long tendrils — tentacles — cascade from what seems to be their faces, over shoulders and past thighs. The flesh on these seems… it looks, to her, almost papery. As she focuses, she can see thin bones in the tendrils, pressing against the skin. Tiny filaments course over it all.

Their bodies seem… surprisingly quarian, and yet, rather krogan, too. All their backs seem naturally hunched (and even with that, they’re still so tall!), with wide shoulders, but they have hands more human than quarian. The appendages are mostly flat, rather paddle-like, but with six thicker, longer tendrils, with bones in them to match. Their legs, rather than ballooning at the hips as quarian, asari, and human do, grow thinner. They spread out near the bottom before turning into the oddest feet she’s ever seen.

“Some of these… look. Some have slits on the chests, and some don’t,” Nora breathes, a few steps away. Tali, startled, shudders but looks. It’s true. The chests with slits are almost universally broader, though still very flat, and those without are thinner. For some, their face-tendrils obscure their chests.

 _WE WERE ONCE CONFINED TO SUCH ORGANIC FORMS. THEN WE WERE ENLIGHTENED, AND FOUND THE UNIVERSE TO BE AT OUR COMMAND._ The Reaper’s voice echoes, as it does, but seems strangely small. _WHEN THE ORGANICS SOUGHT TO DRIVE US BACK, WE WERE A CASUALTY. OUR SYSTEMS HAVE NOT ALLOWED REPAIR. THUS, WE EXIST WITHOUT POINT._

“Reapers gotta reap,” Ashley mumbles. Nora snorts. But when Tali looks over, the commander’s eyes are oddly dilated.

So Tali says out loud, “Was there ever a point to Reaping?”

 _YES. WE SEEK TO PRESERVE THE UNIVERSE. WITH ORGANIC STRUCTURE CONSTANTLY REOCCURRING, IT IS IN DANGER. WE VALUE OUR CONTINUED EXISTENCE._ And the last panel, at the far end of the room from them, falls. They all tense. Nothing happens at first. Nothing emerges. Shadows simply stand still for a second. After that second, slow, gliding footsteps echo inside the room. From the shadow emerges… is it a Reaper? She doesn’t know.

In form, it resembles the bodies in the wall. This one, though, is taller, wider, stands straighter. The body gleams metal in the low light, just as Sovereign’s pieces once did. Rainbows of color flicker through the odd, vertically slit eyes. “…the hell’re you?” Ashley asks after it comes to a stop, just within their line of sight.

 _WE ARE THAT WHICH WAS SMALL, BECOME AN OMEN OF DEATH TO THE GREAT._ It raises one of the paddle hands and extends it. The raised dais in the middle of the room suddenly shoots towards the Thing. It leaves behind what looks like melted metal, but it falls back into being smooth floor too quickly for that. _WE TIRE OF POINTLESSNESS. ORGANIC FUNCTIONS STILL INFECT US OCCASIONALLY._ It moves the hand over the dais. Lights reflect off its tendril-fingers as it speaks again, the Thing looking up and cocking its face-tendrils to one side. _WE SEND YOU TO THE OTHERS AS A CHALLENGE. AND, WHEN YOU FAIL, YOU WILL MAKE AN ADMIRABLE TEMPLATE._

“Template?” Tali asks.

_ONLY FOOLS AND AMATEURS BUILD WITHOUT TEMPLATES. YOUR SHEPARD WILL SERVE US WELL._

“I already told you no, Reaper,” Nora spits. It’s filled with every bit of Nora’s resolute fire. Tali’s heart, followed by her face, smiles at that. “I don’t fail. Not anymore. I killed one of you. Without help. If I have help…” Tali doesn’t need to look to feel the anger burning in the spiteful grin. “You don’t stand a chance.”

 _MANY HAVE SAID AS MUCH. ALL HAVE FAILED, NO MATTER WHAT GALAXY THEY ORIGINATE FROM._ Its tendrils shift to the other side, and it seems to analyze them. _YOU ARE ANOMALOUS. DO NOT THINK THIS GIVES YOU AN ADVANTAGE._

“Took you off guard, didn’t she? What’s to say she can’t do the same to your entire fleet?” Garrus drawls, simultaneously shifting his weight and his grip on his gun.

 _IT IS TRUE YOU TOOK US BY SURPRISE. BUT WE ARE CRIPPLED. NOT ALL OF US WILL BE SO EASILY STARTLED. THE DEFEATED ONE, WHOSE PIECES LIE WITHIN YOU, DOES YOUR ORGANIC MIND THINK IT INCAPABLE OF COMMUNICATING WITH THE OTHERS PRIOR TO ITS FALL?_ This time, instead of just shifting its tendrils, its entire head rotates, the oval shape sitting on its side.

“First off, you egg-headed motherfucker —” Ashley starts. Tali and Nora both snort. “That shithead wouldn’t have dared communicate the slightest goddamn possibility of failure because _it thought it would win_. I have zero doubt that until that shit-headed metallic fuck blew the hell apart, it thought it was on top of everything.”

A pause. Nora glances around at everyone, her oddly dilated pupils catching Tali’s eye again. “Sovereign **did** think itself… well. Sovereign.”

 _NAZARA, THEN? IT WAS NAZARA WHO THEY CHOSE AS HARBINGER FOR YOUR CYCLE?_ A cascade of metal thoughts. It almost seems like… laughter. _HAD THIS ONE NOT FALLEN, IT WOULD BEEN YOUR HARBINGER. ALWAYS, WE SPREAD OUT THE DUTIES AMONG THE YOUNGEST OF US. PERHAPS YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN THIS ONE SO EASILY._

“Or maybe it would have been easier,” Nora challenges it. “But we didn’t come here for this. The IFF —”

 _IS HERE._ It raises one hand from the dais and unfurls its tendrils, revealing a small, grey box. The box seems to absorb light, much like the the simulations of dark matter Tali’s seen. _ORGANIC… SHEPARD… WHEN YOU TAKE THIS FROM US…_ The voice dwindles and shrinks, till it seems far less than it was. _It will emit a distress signal if not in contact with some part of ONE OF US._ The voice booms at the end, and then dwindles again. _When you leave THIS ONE, this form will be no more. Leave THIS ONE quickly._

Nora hesitates and looks to them. Her eyes, less dilated now, go dark as she meets their gazes. Then she breathes deep and nods. Her first step wobbles. The next few are more confident, and faster, and then she stands across from It at the dais. Tali creeps up behind her, oddly fascinated and wary at the same time. “What is the IFF?” Nora asks, holding her far smaller hand out.

 _It is what remains of OUR organic selves._ It pauses. _There does not appear to be a word in your vernacular for it._ Its great hand stretches out, over hers, and pivots. When Its hand is horizontal, facing down… the box doesn’t drop. If it were a quarian hand, it would have. Tali finds herself biting her lip — something she picked up from Shepard — as Its hand descends, the grey box growing ever closer to the commander’s glove.

“Wait!” Ashley suddenly barks.

It’s too late. The box nestles into Shepard’s hand. A frisson of rainbow colors chases over her skin and hair, and then disappears. She stands, stock-still. So does the Thing. The only point of contact between them is the box, connecting their hand.

 _How odd to feel again after so long,_ It says. The voice somehow seems softer, less harsh. The echo almost feels melodic. _I thought this might happen. Good luck, Commander. You’re in charge now._ Then It pulls the hand away. The body crumples to the ground, all vestiges of life and energy gone. The room they’re in lurches.

Tali yelps. She can’t help it. “Keelah, we’re going to die!”

“No. We’re fine.” Nora turns toward her, box firmly in her palm.

  
\- - -

  
“For fuckin’ fuck’s sakes, can’t a man get a goddamn grenade off for the life of him?” Zaeed roars over the comms. Joker almost laughs. Almost. Right now, sweat’s beading on his forehead as he cycles through all the frequencies a comm could possibly operate on.

“Just aim for the glowy red shitheads!” Jack bellows back. In the background, he can hear Grunt’s ‘glorious battle’ roars. Occasionally, he can hear the shriek of metal bending beneath biotics. But no Shepard. He cycles faster.

“Broadcast, all frequencies, EDI!” he barks. She obeys, and he shouts, “SHEPARD! Shepard, god-fuckin-dammit, why the hell aren’t you answering —”

His tirade trails off when he sees a trail of explosions through the center of the Reaper. They’re all in a (mostly) straight line, heading straight upwards. And then, over comms, “Panties, Flight Lieutenant, unwad them. You ready for us?”

He almost wets himself in relief. “Jesus H, Nor, I —”

“I asked a question! _Are you ready for us?”_ Shepard barks. As relieved as he is, he can tell she’s gritting her teeth. “I’ve got the IFF. I’m sure Samara’s team is at the core, ready to blow it.”

“You are correct, Commander,” Samara chimes in. She sounds as smooth as butter, like nothing out of the ordinary has happened at all. Joker’s a little jealous. “We also found something of interest for you.”

“Hell yeah we did!” Jack joins in. “And it wasn’t just the fight! Although, I gotta say —” she pauses. An explosion punctuates her, _“Yippee-kay-yay, motherfuckers!”_

Laughter, strained but nonetheless Nora’s, comes over the comm. “Jack, I don’t know where you learned that, but God bless you.” A pause, and then, “We’re almost to your location. Can you hold out?”

  
\- - -

  
Samara very nearly laughs when Grunt steps into the conversation on comms, just to bellow, “WHO DO YOU THINK WE ARE, SHEPARD? WEAKLINGS? THIS ISN’T EVEN A CHALLENGE!”

Jack cackles and adds, “I’m with the big guy!”

Joker, his voice audibly relieved, says, “Ready when you are, Commander!”

Samara breathes a small chuckle before she adds, “We are fine, Shepard. The battle has not yet overwhelmed —”

 _KAT **HOONK**_! Something crashes into something else, not far off, and they all leap in surprise. Grunt’s leap accidentally takes out the husk he was pummeling. “The fuck was that?” Zaeed shouts, swinging his shotgun into another husk’s face.

His answer comes two minutes later in the familiar **BAM**! **BAM!** of Tali’s shotgun. It’s followed by the _whsh-pop_ of a skull colliding with a sniper bullet. Over the din, she can faintly hear a tune being belted out. As it grows closer, she identifies the sound of a human ‘oldie’.

Ashley charges into sight first. Unsurprisingly, she’s the one belting out the song, gun clenched to her chest as she charges. More surprisingly, she’s the one holding the sniper rifle. Tali’s not far behind, omnitool out as she runs. A husk lunges at her as she enters the core room, but she’s prepared, leaping back and firing almost immediately. Garrus and Shepard bring up the back, Shepard looking more like wet paper every second.

Once inside the room, Ashley switches her sniper rifle for her assault and joins Grunt in glorious sprays of hot energy. Tali guards Shepard and Garrus, who straggle towards Samara. Wincing at the agony clear on the commander’s face, Samara lopes toward them to help keep her still. “How’s this thing work, Samara?” the commander croaks.

Closer… she’s never seen a human look so close to death without dying. Samara pushes three husks towards Grunt, who bellows gleefully in thanks, and answers. “The core opens every so often. We’ve noticed when it opens, no husks attack. We suspect it must open in order to charge whatever set of enemies it plans on sending at us next.” That being said, Samara greets the others with a cool nod. Ashley carries on singing about traveling mountains, her words punctuated by gunfire, and Garrus twitches his mandibles at her. Tali nods back. “Once we overload this core, we’ll —”

“Have to run like bats out of hell.” And then, on the flip of a chit, Ashley completely changes whatever song she’s singing. Shepard rolls her eyes. It’s a relief to see. Then she opens her comm. “EDI, you there?”

“Of course, Shepard. What seems to be the problem?” EDI answers.

“Ask Miranda, or Jacob, or _who-the-hell-ever_ designed you and the Normandy. Do you have any Reaper bits?” she demands. Even that effort appears to be too much. She swallows and sways before continuing. “The IFF emits a distress signal if it’s not in contact with something Reaper-y.”

An instant’s pause, and then EDI replies, “I already know that answer, Shepard. Reaper code was studied and inserted into my programming in order to provide structure to my sentience. Will that suffice?”

“I hope,” Nora breathes. Then her eyes flick up over Samara’s head. “There! It’s opening!”

“Give ‘er all you’ve got, cap’n!” Zaeed laughs, already unloading his assault rifle into the enormous orb of blue energy. Nora sighs, the sound barely audible beneath the gunfire, and reaches for her submachine gun. Though her grip’s soft, she manages to aim, and keeps hold of her gun.

Just as it pops and fizzes, a frisson of rainbow energy cascading over it, the Goddess-damned doors close. “Fuckin’ a! Goddamn child of an asari whore!” Jack swears. Then she immediately glances at Samara, brown eyes guilty. “Uh, sorry.”

Samara lets herself breathe a laugh. Then the husks come again.

  
\- - -

  
Jack’s really not much of a technology person. The dead — shut down — **whatever** geth gives her heebie jeebies a case of heebie jeebies. She remembers hearing about the attack on Eden Prime. Last time she snuck onto the Citadel and helped loot some rich cats for a friend, they had mounted geth heads on their walls. Gilded plaques and everything. She has a very simple motto: _If it looks like a flashlight, and walks like a human, it’s fucking **weird**._

So as they sprint towards the exit, she can’t help eyeing the geth draped across Grunt’s back. In true Grunt form, it doesn’t even phase him. The ship shudders beneath their feet. And there’s the airlock. She’s not even sure if they’ll all make it. So she pushes just a bit of biotic energy into her feet, like she’s seen Samara and Shepard do, and — “Shit. SHEPARD?!” she yells, pivoting.

The commander’s at the back of the pack, Garrus almost dragging her along. “What?” she yells back. Her voice seems strong. The way her feet falter when she speaks does not. “Walk and talk, Jack! Keep going!”

Jack obeys, but keeps an eye over her shoulder. “Are you going to be able to make that jump?”

No answer comes. She turns her head a little more and catches Nora looking a bit grim. Above her head, Garrus’s face is set so firmly Jack can read his mandibles. “I have to,” she hears Shepard mutter.

She doesn’t tell Nora what Garrus’s face says: _You’ll make it, no matter what._

They thunder up to the exit and Grunt goes first, his mass combined with that of the geth propelling him surprisingly fast. Ashley and Zaeed follow, and Tali after them. Jack goes next, the ship bucking beneath her feet as she leaps. Samara jumps after her. There’s a second of arguing between Shepard and Garrus. Jack doesn’t wait for them to resolve it. Instead, she looks to Samara, jerks her head towards the commander, and reaches out to _yank_. Samara’s hand raises, glimmering with biotic energy. It isn’t necessary. Nora flies through the air, propelled by Jack’s biotics, and into the airlock. Garrus leaps after her.

“We’re in!” Nora gasps over her comm as Jack drops her inside the airlock. “Go! Go!”

Her eyes roll back in her head as the Normandy banks to the right and flies away from the corpse of a dead god, dying in the flames of another.

  
\- - -

  
For a second, no more than a second, relief floods Garrus. _We did it. We got away._ Teetering on the edge of the airlock, with Zaeed hauling him in, he allows the spurt of joy.

Then he recognizes the sprawl of Shepard’s body.

_She’s unconscious._

“Shepard!” Jack shouts. “Jesus H, girl, you pass out a fuckin’ lot!”

“EDI! Tell Chakwas we’re bringing Nora in hot again!” Ashley calls out to the AI. She leads the charge, Jack following with Shepard wrapped in her biotics. Garrus, a little numb, watches them go.

“Should you be lettin’ Jack carry her? She’s a bit better at explosions than bein’ careful,” Zaeed rumbles, voicing one of Garrus’s thoughts.

Samara hums. “Her control comes quickly. I would trust her more than I would some asari many times her age.” As the elevator shuts on the trio, Garrus finally kickstarts his brain and moves down the CIC.

  
\- - -

  
Karin rolls her eyes when EDI tells her they’re bringing Shepard in _again_. “Goodness, girl, you haven’t even been out of here a day!” she mutters. But then they bring Shepard in, face and neck streaked with copious amounts of blood. That isn’t abnormal, but the fact it’s all from her ears and nose? Without any apparent damage to either? “What in all the universe…”

“Yeah, the Reaper we just went into? Supposed to be dead?” Ashley narrates, helping her get Shepard settled into a table. “Not fucking dead. Had a lively goddamn conversation with Nora.” Karin sucks in a breath.

“The fuck is this?” Jack demands, trying to uncurl Nora’s fingers from around the IFF box. “She won’t let go!”

“Don’t!” Ashley shouts. Startled, Jack steps away for a second. Karin listens, but doesn’t stop prepping the synthesis machine. “That’s the _real_ IFF. If it’s out of contact with… I don’t know, something that’s got Reaper bits in it, it sends out a distress signal. The last thing we need is a response to that signal!”

Jack gives her a thousand-yard stare for a minute and then sighs. “Fine. Whatever. Hopefully it’s not fucking her up too bad.”

As if on cue, Nora’s teeth clack against each other and her body bucks up into a seizure. “EDI! Get Mordin down here!” Karin snaps. “Jack, hold her down!” Samara enters a moment later, followed by a wide-eyed turian. “Garrus, get out. Samara —” The justicar nods and raises a hand, helping Jack keep the commander contained. With that, Karin turns to synthesizing the blood transfusions Nora’s going to need.

  
\- - -

  
“Do not understand. Very peculiar brain activity, very similar to human stroke victim. But very different. Possibility of indoctrination? Hm. Will have to reach out to Kaemehrs. Reonn indicated knowledge of Reapers —”

The world falls away and becomes light again. It reforms.

_Grand cities, far more beautiful than anything she’s ever seen, tower over her. Graceful spirals of stone, of circuitry, touch the sky. Stacks of stone, solid and glorious in that solidity. Orbs, gently nestling against each other till they reach the sky. In places, it reminds her of Ilos. The air is music, and emotion. She breathes, and the breath causes laughter._

“I can’t get any of her cybernetic parts to respond… It’s quite unusual. Generally, when a cybernetically enhanced human has something like this happen, their cybernetics —”

_She dances, her tendrils soft and swaying, trying to seduce a partner to join her. One comes, its chest wide, good for birthing eggs. Her voice thrums inside her as she greets it. Another comes, taller, but its chest not as wide. It calls a greeting before she does. She likes that. They circle, their own tendrils reaching for hers in a gentle call._

_She chooses the first._

“I’ve never seen human brainwaves like this. It’s… I don’t have a word for it. Oceanic, perhaps, but in describing a —”

_Thunder, and they are overcome._

_They have been overcome before, but they were benevolent. The first ones who came listened, and understood, and helped them spread their art to many worlds._

_These are not so._

“Shepard… Nora… I wish I knew what was going on.” This voice sounds like the music in her dreams, and draws her away from the images of toppling towers. “You won’t let go of that thing. You won’t wake up. I know you won’t answer —”

“Wrng,” she grates out. Her head still swims with the architecture of a race long dead, but Shepard. That’s her. “ _Wake_.” Her jaw won’t move, her eyes barely open, and her body aches. But she can see the silhouette of the concerned turian leaning over her. “Cliche.”

Then she falls away again, but knows she’ll return. Soon.

  
\- - -

  
After the third day of Shepard’s unconsciousness, Miranda’s almost given up hope. At the end of the first day after the Reaper, she sent the Illusive Man a terse message: _Shepard unconscious. Unable to wake her by any means._

He hasn’t replied. The next day, and the day after, she’s spent inspecting brain scans, implant scans, anything. Nothing tells her what’s going on. Mordin and Karin find nothing she overlooks. Shepard’s just… not available. Her cybernetics, her implant, nothing responds. So she goes to bed on the third day, exhausted. Of course, EDI goes off in her ear twenty minutes later. “Shepard’s awake!”

She’s out of her bed instantly, and in the med bay seconds later. Garrus, perched by her bed, is staring at the gently snoring commander with wide eyes. “Garrus! What happened?”

“I…” He’s never sounded so shell-shocked in her hearing. “She spoke.”

“Should I play the sound file?” EDI asks, her orb almost vibrating in excitement.

“Yes, please!” So the sound comes in over the speakers. Nothing more than three words, but it’s more than she’s heard in days. “Is Karin awake?”

“Doctor Chakwas is dressing.” Somehow, the AI sounds… disapproving?

Garrus coughs and looks away. “Ah, you… might want to do that yourself, Miranda.”

She blinks. “What?” He gestures at her, so she glances down… and squawks. “Good lord!”

Five minutes later, she’s wearing clothes. She doesn’t even care that she ran across the mess hall in a shirt and skivvies. _Shepard woke up._

  
\- - -

  
“Really? You spoke to her and she woke up?” Tali gushes, leaning forward and cradling her face in her hands. If her eyes were visible — well, he’d place money on them being dreamy. “It’s just like _Fleet and Flotilla,_ but better!”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he rumbles. The past three days he’s spent every spare moment in the med bay. Useless? Yes. But he wanted to be there when she woke. And he had been. The mess hall’s quiet. It always is in the earliest hours. So relaxing here, with his eyes on a now-snoring Nora through the glass, feels good.

“I do,” she sighs. “I can’t believe it!” Then she goes silent. He’s fine with that. It lets him watch Nora breathe. Her left hand still clings to the IFF, even after her waking. That’s a good thing. Right now, she’s twitched into a position no turian could ever manage. If the IFF wasn’t locked to her hand, it would probably be across the room. “Garrus?”

“Mmm?” he hums, not moving his eyes toward Tali.

“Did you ever… despair… of finding love?” she asks, very quietly.

He jolts and turns his head toward her. “That’s an odd question.”

She shrugs and hunches over her filtered drink. “Sometimes… I just look around and feel lonely. Cailin and Nastaran. Donnelly and Daniels… even if they won’t admit it. You and Shepard. Even talking to Joker about his family hurts. I don’t **have** people to call. I don’t have anyone to share a suit with.” Tali hunches farther forward, her shoulders so far forward she’s almost a cave. “Sometimes it hurts.”

Garrus doesn’t have a good response for that. He could tell her that the people on the Normandy are a family. It’s _mostly_ true. But he’s sure at least one of the Cerberus flunkies would toss Tali out an airlock without reason. Instead, he reaches over the table and rests his hand on hers. She shudders, but doesn’t move. Eventually, he finds and vocalizes the words. “It’ll come, Tali. It’ll come.”

  
\- - -

  
Ashley’s in the med bay when Nora wakes again. So is Karin, but the older woman’s dozing in her chair. Between Mordin, Miranda, and Chakwas, none of them leave Nora without a doctor on hand. She’s sitting and reading Tennyson to Shepard when the other woman groans and shifts. That’s happened before, so she finishes the stanza before looking up.

Nora’s watching her. Startled, she drops the datapad and leaps to her feet. Her flurry of movement startles Karin awake, who babbles, “What? Who — Commander!” She bolts to the other side of Shepard’s bed and checks her vitals before asking, “How do you feel?”

Ashley’s heart sinks when Nora’s mouth barely moves and a stream of guttural sounds come out. “No…” she whispers. “Can you move?” She’s heard of this happened to some people whose brains couldn’t handle interfacing with an omnitool. For them, it showed in stutters. _If this is how it’s affecting Nora…_

After a second, her right hand twitches. Her torso shifts, just marginally, a minute later. “That’s a good sign,” Chakwas breathes, opening a scanner and fervently attending to that data. “Call Mordin and Miranda!” she barks at Ashley. “The scans are finally registering something useful instead of returning inconclusives!”

“I’ve already taken the liberty of alerting Operative Lawson and Doctor Solus,” EDI hums. “Should I summon Officer Vakarian as well?”

Ashley and Karin look at each other for a long moment. “Not yet,” Ashley says. “Let the docs do their… whatever… and then call him.” Unspoken goes the shared thought of _maybe it won’t be so bad in a bit._

  
\- - -

  
Kasumi’s reading when the alert about Shepard flashes up on her omnitool. It’s a simple alert. But she’s already seen the footage of what happened when Shepard woke. This was a risk. So she sets down her book, slides from her self-appointed quarters, and into the main battery. Garrus doesn’t notice her till she speaks.

“So you’ve got something going on with Shepard.” He twitches instead of jumping, but there’s still a reaction. Whatever he’s working with on his omnitool, he finishes. Then he turns and stares her down.

A long minute later, he admits, “Yes.”

She breaks into a smile. “And here I thought you wouldn’t admit it. You wouldn’t admit even an attraction to her when I came onboard. Progress, Garrus.” He snorts at her and gives her… the turian version of a smile, maybe.

“I wasn’t sure I was attracted to her when you came onboard, Goto. So yes, progress.” He folds his arms and spreads his mandibles. “Is there a reason for this?”

She nods and tilts her head to the side. “You… well. I didn’t disclose the details of what we went to Bekenstein for. I don’t think Shepa has…?” she trails off. He shakes his head. “I used to have a partner. His name won’t matter to you, but he was…” she closes her eyes and smiles. “To me, the sound of his name… even now…” After a second, she shakes off the memories and opens her eyes. “Details are boring, so I’ll refrain. We had a job. It went south. He didn’t make it out.” She looks up at Garrus. He’s listening intently, so she looks back down at her hands and folds them together. “Hock took his greybox. It was… important to me.”

“Understandable,” he answers. His voice, low and rumbling, reminds her of a cat purring. “I’m sorry.”

She waves off the condolences and turns away. “Some connections are worth pursuing, Garrus. This one, with Shepard? It’s one of those. Maybe it’ll pan out. Maybe it won’t. But you’ll have the memories.”

They sit in silence for a minute. When she ghosts away, he’s sitting and inspecting his talons.

Twenty minutes later, she checks the video feeds. He’s methodically filing down his talons. She smiles and shuts the feed off.  _A successful distraction._

  
\- - -

  
Mordin is the one who calls Garrus in. An hour after Nora’s initial waking, he appears at the door to the main battery. “Needed in med bay,” he bites out, the words even tighter than Mordin’s wont. “Remember bleeding, lack of balance?” He nods, following Mordin. The privacy shields are down in the med bay. “Believe communication with Reaper impacted Shepard much like human stroke. Should recover.” He hesitates at the door — something very unlike Mordin — and adds, “Not sure of timeline.”

Garrus pushes past him, dread coiling in his heart. Shepard’s awake. She’s sitting up. But while the others turn toward him, her head only twitches in his direction. “Don’t push yourself, Shepard,” Karin admonishes. “Stay still.”

He doesn’t even know what to ask. Instead, he steps closer to Nora and rests his hand — with newly blunt talons — on her leg. Here, she can see him. One corner of her mouth hitches up. It’s the only reaction he gets. Unbidden, he trills, pouring his fear and worry into those sounds.

“I’m sure Mordin informed you of the verdict, Garrus,” Miranda says. He’s never seen her face like this — creased with worry. “Shepard’s effectively suffered a severe stroke. _Incredibly_ severe. While Reapers appear to be able to broadcast to organics without harming them too much, it’s far beyond organic capability for them to communicate, mind-to-mind, like this one did with Shepard.” She opens her omnitool and clears her throat. “The… recovery… will not be easy. Stroke paralysis is caused by a lack of oxygen to the brain. Nora’s brain cells aren’t reacting like they’re dead, merely… incredibly damaged.”

“Until her brain repairs itself, with the aid of the cybernetics, she won’t be able to speak, walk, or void her body on her own.” Karin sighs. “But she is alive. That is something.”

“Will speak to members of crew closest to commander, set up care rotation,” Mordin mumbles. He hurries away, already working on his omnitool.

Part of Garrus rebels. _This… thing… is barely off the ground, and they’re calling you in like a bondmate!_ The rest of him quashes that part. It doesn’t matter. _If we die going through the relay, I won’t regret Shepard._ So he squares his shoulders and looks Karin in the eye. “What do I do?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. Please rest assured, this has not been abandoned!
> 
> In regards to my circumstances, I now live ~500 miles away from my former residence. Things are infinitely better, but there was a great deal of upheaval just before the move, and following it. Job searches, car trouble, and so on, combined with underlying untreated depression, contributed to the lack of writing drive. Things have settled down a little now. I've started a new course of medication which helps... a lot. I've written more in the past two weeks than in the six months preceding. 
> 
> Hopefully, I should have this finished shortly. My plans go thus: The next chapter will involve Legion and his loyalty mission. It will also (hopefully) cover Ashley's loyalty mission, which I am fabricating wholecloth. I'm not doing Arrival until after the return from the suicide mission. The epilogue will be comprised of Arrival, and said epilogue will be posted after I revise the entire story. Partially because I'm wicked, I plan on carrying Nora on into the third game. I enjoy interpreting in-game events differently, and hopefully you all enjoy them as well.
> 
> That being said, if you would like to help me revise, or if you'd be interested in beta reading When Darkness Sinks Down (working title for 3), I'd love that! Criticism of all kinds is welcome!
> 
> Again, I'm sorry for the wait. I hope my longwindedness can help assuage that sting. If you have thoughts, please share! (I may have gone overboard with pop references this time. Let me know.)


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